


Bite Me (That's Kinda The Way I Like It)

by seventeeners



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Vampires, mingyu is a sex-crazed puppy and jihoon is a tired vampire trying to get some, seriously why is there so much fucking plot, side! jeonghao, you know me i love my ridiculous multi-orgasm sex sessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeeners/pseuds/seventeeners
Summary: Almost forty years into the life of a vampire, and Jihoon still can’t figure out how to get the actual blood sucking part done. For the successful modern-age vampire, blood and sex go hand in hand, but it’s the whole “sex” bit that Jihoon's been having some trouble with. Luck seems to finally be in his corner when he meets a Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome in a club one night, but involving himself with Kim Mingyu feels like it might be more trouble than it's worth.





	Bite Me (That's Kinda The Way I Like It)

The first thing Jihoon sees is red.

Red everywhere. Red sheets. Red pillows. Red curtains. Red blood.

It’s beautiful, hypnotizing in its hue, and maybe it’s just some sort of inherent vampiric instinct but damn, he’s fascinated. It’s almost like in a dream, where the edges are fuzzy and burnt like old photographs; he drowns in the colour and admires how the sheets begin to darken with the stains.

Then he remembers that all that blood is not really meant to be there and a small voice in the back of his head goes: _Ah, shit._

There’s a naked body on the bed—tall, dark-skinned, extraordinarily handsome, built like a fucking Adonis as far as he’s concerned—and Jihoon’s heart twinges at the overwhelming, dizzying sight of all that blood streaking along his delicious, beautiful body.

Other parts of him react a little, too, but that is definitely not what he should be focusing on right now. No, what he needs to focus on is that all that blood is coming out of _this man._

“S-shit!” Jihoon chokes out, hovering over the grisly scene in panic. “Fuck!” He desperately attempts to stem the flow currently pulsing its way out of a puncture wound in the man’s neck that’s shaped suspiciously like a set of very sharp teeth, fighting the heavenly smell and the almost primal urge to just ignore him, to sink his fangs into that wound and drink and drink and drink until the last bit of life is pumped out of the human by his own heart.

But he can’t, he can’t because this man is too beautiful to die and Jihoon will never forgive himself if he lets it happen, so he presses his hand down as hard as he can with the hopes that pressure will help block the steady stream (the man chokes in pain beneath him, flitting in and out of consciousness, a disturbingly vacant look in his eyes), and he turns his head to scream as loudly as he can, “Jeonghan-hyung! _Jeonghan!”_

As he sits there, sobs beginning to bubble its way out of his throat, cradling the man in his arms and waiting desperately for his friend to come save them, he thinks back to how all this began and how utterly fucked he is.

 

Well, the way it all began started way, way back when Jihoon was Turned approximately thirty-eight years ago. How and why doesn’t really matter at this point; what does matter is that Jihoon used to be a shut-in, an introvert who worked from home and figured he might very well live and die alone. The idea of having to go outside, meet new people, talk with them, and eventually get to know someone enough to want to be together with them forever was just so fucking overwhelming that he was never willing to do it, even as he crept closer and closer to hitting thirty.

Then one day, he was still all of those things, except he never hit his twenty-eighth birthday and now he needed to feed on blood to survive.

His Host, the one who originally Turned him, seemed to think that he was doing Jihoon a favour. He was a tall, generically attractive man with a head of curly dark hair and hazel eyes. He had very patiently waited until Jihoon came to sporting a permanent scar on the side of his neck, and proceeded to spend the next two and a half months teaching Jihoon the ins and outs of being a vampire. He explained the unwritten rules, when to feed and how often, taught him how to hide his presence so the people around him don’t get suspicious over his lack of aging; and he taught him, most importantly of all, how to drink blood from a human.

“We aren’t trying to kill them, Jihoon,” his Host had said, “and we certainly don’t want any attention to be drawn to us. Sex is the easiest way, you see? Pick up someone at a bar, someone who’s already looking for a fun night, brain fuzzy enough to forget some things the next morning, and drink from them then.”

“But won’t they feel it?” Jihoon can remember asking, nervous at both the idea of feeding and the idea of having to approach someone for sex at all. “I mean, when you bite them?”

And that’s when the Host had explained to him the mysterious properties of a vampire’s bite. How, in the heat of passion, the fangs piercing through skin and flesh triggers hormones that increase pleasure at a fantastic rate, something which will wholeheartedly distract anyone from the pain. And afterwards, so long as the vampire makes sure to close the wound properly, the only traces left of the bite are bruises that can be easily misconstrued as hickeys. No need to steal people from their beds and feed on them until they’re empty husks like their ancestors so many centuries ago, no need to make their kind the target of angry torch-bearing villagers.

No, this is a modern vampire’s way to hunt, and it has been perfected to an art.

“Simple and painless enough, right?” the Host had said, right before vanishing from Jihoon’s life to go on his way. Fucking asshole.

Simple and painless were quite possibly the only two words in his Korean vocabulary that Jihoon would _not_ use to describe this situation. He tried, he really did, nervously entering bars with shaking fingers and sitting alone like a tool, hoping to either find someone worth propositioning or be propositioned himself. It never seemed to work out. He wasn’t _terrible_ to look at or anything, and he had been approached by a couple of people before, but he always managed to panic and run away or say something stupid and ruin his chances. Eventually, he gave up on it entirely.

There are plenty of other ways to get blood—vampiric associations, private blood donors, even a small community of vamp-fetishist humans in the know who straight up volunteer themselves for the rush brought along by the bite (he … doesn’t try to seek the latter’s services). He doesn’t starve. And as the years tick on by, he stocks up his fridge with blood bags and carefully adjusts the minds of the people in the businesses he works for so they don’t realize the same twenty-seven-year-old has been their virtual assistant for way too long.

Life—or whatever the fuck he has now—goes on.

 

Jeonghan is already in his apartment by the time Jihoon returns from getting his dinner. He has this habit of wandering in unannounced and often without Jihoon’s permission, and Jihoon wholeheartedly regrets giving him his side key. With him is Minghao like always, cuddled firmly by his side.

“Oh, honey, you’re home,” Jeonghan says cheekily, turning his head and grinning when his eyes catch sight of Jihoon’s unimpressed expression. Jeonghan is one of the prettiest people Jihoon’s ever met, even if he has the personality of a second-hand car salesman. In all the twenty years they’ve known each other, Jihoon’s never met a single person who didn’t get charmed by Jeonghan’s confident smile and carefree laughter, no one able to resist his charms or his bed. Jeonghan’s never had a problem seducing a human.

“I used your shower, Jihoon-hyung,” Minghao says, turning to him next. Jeonghan has never had a problem with seduction, but he also hasn’t _bothered_ seducing anyone ever since he met Minghao. Jihoon can sense it when he’s near them, something invisible but potent, like a warning signal or something—a message that Xu Minghao is a human he cannot tamper with. He doesn’t need to see the arm Jeonghan’s got wrapped around his waist to feel this. “Do you mind?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Jeonghan coos before Jihoon can answer (he _does_ mind, but if it’s Minghao he’ll let it go). “Honey, did you bring any food?”

“I got takeout,” Jihoon says, shrugging off his shoes and leaving them at the door, stepping fully into his apartment. “ _One_ serving. For _me._ ”

“Great!” Jeonghan doesn’t appear to have heard him. “We can share. Hao, you know where the chopsticks are, right?”

Minghao nods, preening when Jeonghan runs his hand through Minghao’s chocolate brown locks, before standing up and heading to the kitchen like he owns the place. Jihoon makes sure Jeonghan can see his scowl when he goes to sit next to them on the couch and pulls out the small boxes of Chinese food.

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Jeonghan says. “We don’t need to eat much anyway, what were you gonna do with all that?”

“Leftovers for the rest of the week,” Jihoon snaps, defensive and slightly offended that Jeonghan doesn’t think he’s smart enough to know he can’t eat all that in one sitting. Part of the vampire bargain or something. Human food just doesn’t sit right if too much of it is consumed at once. “I’m not an _idiot._ ”

Jeonghan hums something noncommittally in response, but before Jihoon can fight back Minghao arrives with a fistful of napkins and three pairs of chopsticks for them. Instantly, Jeonghan looks up and smiles at him adoringly, a look so loving Jihoon has to turn away and grab the TV remote, feeling like he’s barging in on something private. “Thanks, baby.”

Minghao settles into place at his side again as Jihoon changes the channel to some drama he doesn’t know the name of. For a while, there’s no words from any of them as they open up shrimp low mein and Szechuan chili chicken, just the slurping of noodles in the silence of the living room. When Jeonghan finishes his tiny bowl of low mein (Jihoon notices he saves all his portion of the chicken for Minghao, how _disgustingly_ domestic), he wipes his mouth clean and makes a satisfying smacking noise with his lips, and Jihoon instantly knows something is up.

“So,” Jeonghan says in a tone he probably thinks sounds casual, “any plans for Friday night?”

 _Say yes. Say yes._ “Not really,” Jihoon mutters, wincing internally at what is sure to be a terrible decision on his part. “Why?”

Jeonghan smiles, lips thinning as they stretch wide around two rows of pretty white teeth (two of them, the canines, look particularly longer and sharper than normal). “Well …”

Jihoon sees the gleam in his faint ruby-tinged eyes and immediately understands. “No. Fuck no.” Now Minghao is grinning, too, a cute smile full of normal-sized teeth. “Jeonghan-hyung, Minghao, _no._ ”

“It’s time you got out of the house, Jihoonie.” Jeonghan says it like an ultimatum. He has a way with swaying people, not out of any sort of clever wordplay, but just with such sheer baffling confidence that it only seems natural to believe everything he says. “You can’t live off of pig’s blood and hospital donors forever, you need to experience the thrill of the hunt at least once in your life.”

Jihoon grimaces at the use of the word “hunt”. “I’m gonna be living for a really fucking long time, so forgive me if refusing to go out clubbing with you this Friday doesn’t sound like a big deal.”

“Does hyung not go clubbing often?” Minghao asks. “But you were there when I first met Jeonghan-hyung.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” It had been maybe the third or fourth time Jeonghan had ever managed to convince him to try hunting, and each time had been as mortifying as ever—while he stared desperately at a couple dozen beautiful men and women, flexing his fingers to the rapid beating of their heart and ordering drink after drink to quell the raging thirst he got from hearing the rush of blood in their veins, Jeonghan met Minghao, a twenty-year-old college kid out clubbing for the very first time, and became completely enamoured with him. So not only did Jeonghan get to (pardon Jihoon’s vulgarity) “fuck ‘n’ feed” as some of the vamp community says, but he also got to _fall in love._ Jihoon sometimes hates him.

“Jihoon, _please._ ” Jeonghan is whining now, which is not a good sign. “It’s driving me crazy seeing you mope around like this, all alone. At least you can go outside and have some fun with me, yeah?”

Jihoon feels it’s necessary to crabbily correct him. “I’m not going to have fun. I’m going to end up watching you and Minghao drunkenly make out for half the night, stop you from feeding on him in public, and then drive your asses home once I can’t take it anymore.” Minghao blushes and giggles nervously into his palm, embarrassed at being called out.

Jeonghan just blinks and smiles at him, utterly _un_ embarrassed. “Hoonie, please. Just this once.” And then, when Jihoon doesn’t look the least bit moved, he adds, “I’ll buy you drinks.”

“Okay, _fine._ ” What the hell else did he have to do anyway? “But don’t ever talk shit about my feeding habits again, alright?”

 

Clubs all look the same after a while. Big dance floors, cramped bathrooms with shitty lighting, little pockets of safe havens in the form of bar counters, smoky dark interiors, flashing strobe lights and multicoloured LED.

It’s a sort of torture, Jihoon thinks, as he follows Jeonghan and Minghao into the club and is immediately assaulted with the smell of at least a hundred or more people with their minds hazy, blood pumping, heart rate fast and joyful. The vampire side of him keens at all the options presenting themselves to him, sharpened senses picking up on the various scents and flavours in the air. Going to a club is like walking into a grocery store, everything is laid out and displayed for a vampire to pick and choose at their leisure. Hunting ground, indeed.

Three years earlier and Jeonghan would have been on the prowl in an instant, black-smudged eyes drooping into half-lidded glances, lips curling into a lazy smirk as he charms his way into everyone’s attention. Tonight, however, he doesn’t spare anyone a glance, even though Jihoon knows he’s just as affected by the smell and sound of everyone’s blood as he is. He keeps his arm hooked protectively around Minghao’s narrow waist as they weave their way towards a free table off the side of the dance floor.

Once Jihoon’s got two or three free drinks in his system, he doesn’t feel as bad. He’s always been a lightweight, even as a human, and once he’s giggling with the others about something nonsensical happening on the dance floor he almost tricks himself into thinking he’ll have fun tonight after all.

Delusions only last for so long. Soon, Jeonghan and Minghao are all over each other, smiling sloppily and murmuring sweet nothings into each other’s ears, and Minghao grabs his wrist and pulls him up to dance, leaving Jihoon to sit pathetically by himself at their table.

Jihoon sighs, trying to blink the alcohol out of his system, and props his head up with his elbow on the slightly sticky god-knows-what-spilled tabletop surface to watch the flailing bodies around him. His throat is dry. He can smell all the various blood types and slight inconsistencies and whimsies everywhere, thick and cloying in his senses. His fangs ache slightly. He wants to feed so _badly._

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

Jihoon jumps a little from the sudden voice addressing him and turns to meet its source, and then promptly has a heart attack. The man currently speaking to him is young but doesn’t look it—he’s tall and strong, defined shoulders and arms and pectorals showcasing themselves clearly in his tight black tank top; his tanned skin is glistening slightly with sweat from the trapped heat of bodies in the room; his hair is dark and slicked back, displaying ridiculously handsome features and a blinding white-toothed smile. He is all of those things and a rumbling, pleasant voice, and he’s talking to _Jihoon._

“What?” Jihoon asks a little dumbly. _Excellent conversation starter, Jihoon, you fucking loser._

“Is this seat taken?”

He looks down at the two empty seats at his table. “Uh, yes. No, wait! No. I mean, they are, but, um, its occupants are currently grinding on the dance floor. So—” he wishes being a vampire meant losing all sense of blood flow, because he knows he’s blushing up a storm by now and desperately doesn’t want to be, “—so, what I’m trying to say is, um, they are taken, technically, but also you don’t have to really give a shit because they won’t be back for a while.”

He hates himself.

The handsome young man either doesn’t seem to mind that Jihoon sounds like he talks with his foot in his mouth or pities him too much to point it out. He takes Jeonghan’s old seat with a cheerful smile, a drink of something blue and fruity in his hand.

It was harder to see from his previous position, but when he sits down he’s directly underneath a light and Jihoon can now see his face is rather flushed. Ah, that must be it. The alcohol buzzing through his system must have tricked him into thinking Jihoon was someone worth talking to. Nobody _this_ attractive ever comes to him, at least voluntarily.

“I’m Mingyu,” the man says. “What’s your name?”

“Jihoon.”

“Did you come here alone?”

“No, I-I came with friends, but they’re—” a quick glance back to the dance floor shows him that Jeonghan and Minghao are pressed impossibly close, staring deeply into each other’s eyes and tuning the rest of the world out, “—busy.”

Mingyu chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I came with some friends, too, but they’re all ‘busy’ too. Fucking assholes even promised to buy me a celebratory drink, but clearly you should never count on promises being kept by drunk kids.”

Jihoon snorts a little at that. “Amen.” He’s feeling a little fuzzy around his fingertips, ears straining at the sound of all the blood in Mingyu’s body, how delicious he smells even from here. Of course someone this handsome would also smell tantalizingly good, it’s just not _fair_. “Can I ask what you’re celebrating?”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not that important.”

“Go on, tell me. Maybe I’ll, uh, buy you that drink.”

When he hears that, Mingyu leans forward and his smile widens. “I dunno, I feel bad coaxing drinks out of someone so young.”

At that, Jihoon coughs, immediately embarrassed and slightly annoyed. God, how he _hates_ his short stature. He likes to hope that the sharp edges of his jawline and the faint premature lines around his eyes can make him look more his age, but he supposes in the terrible lighting conditions of the club it’s hard to make out these features. “Try again, _kid._ I’m definitely older than you.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu’s voice sounds like he’s _challenging_ him, almost. He crosses his arms and rests his weight on them, biceps bulging. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry with an entirely different kind of thirst. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.” Give or take almost forty years.

Mingyu’s eyes widen and he lets out a low, surprised whistle, but he doesn’t seem at all perturbed. “Wow, yeah. I just turned twenty-two last month. Guess I really misjudged you on that one. Maybe take it as a compliment that I thought you were a lot younger?”

“I’ll take it as a compliment so long as you tell me what you’re celebrating.”

Mingyu throws his head back and laughs, and Jihoon’s mouth nearly falls open and salivates right there on the spot. He has a _gorgeous_ neck, and here it is, right there in front of him. Jihoon’s hands cling to his knees until the knuckles turn white, and he can feel his dick, trapped within his underwear and uncomfortably tight skinny jeans, twitch in palpable interest. He’s never wanted a human so badly in his _life_.

“I got full marks on my final English thesis,” he explains. “Sounds lame, I know, but it was the biggest one of the semester and I nearly killed myself working on it. It’ll pull my grades up and maybe even get me recommendation letters for grad school.”

College is something that happened to Jihoon eons ago, but he can still remember the panic, the long late nights, the stress and bad eating habits and wanting the sky to collapse and fall before he has to turn in a paper. “Hell no, that’s something you should definitely be celebrating! Here, uh, what do you want?”

“Can I get a cosmo?”

“What?” Jihoon can’t help a slightly incredulous laugh from bubbling between his lips. “You want a cosmopolitan? Really?”

Mingyu shrugs, unashamed. “Beer tastes gross, I like sweet, fruity things. If you’re offering to buy, that’s what I want.”

“I, uh—” the way Mingyu is smiling at him is edging close to flirtatious, and the entire ocean seems to be roaring in Jihoon’s ears. “Yeah, gimme a sec, I’ll get one for you.”

He jumps up and heads over to the bar, nerves tense and nonexistent heart rate heightened. As he waits for the drink, fingers tapping nervously on the counter in time with the bassline of the song blasting out of the speakers, he wonders if maybe he’s being made a fool of. If maybe he’ll get this drink and turn around and the most gorgeous human he’s ever seen before will be gone, vanished into thin air.

He gets his cosmo and returns to his seat, overwhelmingly relieved to see Mingyu is still there. He hands him the drink and sits back down, feeling a surge of delight when Mingyu beams at him and immediately knocks back the drink, licking his lips in a way that could almost be obscene if he didn’t do it so innocently.

“Thanks, hyung,” Mingyu chirps. “So, if your friends are out being busy, what are you still here for?”

“Um,” he got lost in the view of Mingyu’s wet, pink tongue running across his bottom lip, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, are you waiting for something else?” His head shifts, heavy shadows appearing on the planes of his forehead and cheekbones, and Jihoon receives an eyeful of collarbone in response. “Waiting for _someone_ else?”

“Uhhh.” _Say something!_ he screams to himself. _This is your only chance, say something!_ “Maybe.” And then, before he can get in over his head and fuck things up, he blurts out, “Wanna dance?”

Mingyu smiles like he had been waiting for him to ask that. “Sure, hyung,” he says, and without another word the two of them head towards the flashing dance floor, to the throng of bodies packing themselves in and even closer to the ear-blasting beat of the EDM music. Jihoon thinks he might get a headache by the end of the night, but once Mingyu winds a large, heavy, too-warm hand around his waist and pulls him close, he decides he doesn’t give a shit.

Mingyu smells like alcohol and some department store cologne and the faintest whiff of whatever the crackheads have been smoking in the bathrooms that got caught in the fabric of his shirt, and somehow even that pungent scent isn’t enough to mask the blood in his veins, racing through his bloodstream, so loud and delicious that Jihoon can almost taste it in the molecules of the air itself. And he’s _tall,_ much much taller than Jihoon thought, even looking up a bit his nose is pressed into Mingyu’s chest and right by his heart, where the blood is loudest. Mingyu’s hands on him feel secure and promising, even though they’re a little sweaty, and Jihoon’s ashamed to say he’s already half-hard by the time he pulls away to breathe, half an hour later, an hour later, an eternity later. The thick, smoky air in the club feels as fresh as the night outside compared to how much Mingyu’s presence makes his head spin.

“You alright, hyung?” Mingyu rolls each word around in his mouth with relish—maybe he knows how he’s affecting Jihoon, maybe he feels the same way. Jihoon doesn’t know anymore. All he knows is that Mingyu’s got a burning hot hand on him and a body full of blood he thinks he’ll go crazy without tasting, and he needs this he needs this _now._

“Wanna go—go somewhere more puh-private?” he stutters, horrified with himself.

He doesn’t have to wait long for an answer. Mingyu pulls him in close, close enough that Jihoon thinks Mingyu might able to feel the stiffness in his pants. “Shit, yeah,” Mingyu grunts out, low, right in Jihoon’s ear. “Your place or mine? They’ve got private rooms upstairs, too.”

Jihoon lets out a full-body shudder and tries to force himself to think. This isn’t a simple one-night stand, he reminds himself angrily, this isn’t a silly human fling. This is hunting. He’s _hunting._ The sex is just a bonus, not the focal point. They definitely can’t go back to his place, he doesn’t want any humans knowing where he lives and he can’t risk Mingyu seeing the blood bags lying around. He also doesn’t want to end up in some strange human’s house and get lost trying to find his way back. He—Mingyu chooses this moment to lightly graze his lips against the shell of Jihoon’s ear and he forgets what he was supposed to be doing.

Right. Right, okay. _Focus._ “U-upstairs.” Just so Mingyu doesn’t get suspicious (although he has a feeling he’s too drunk and horny right now to really care), Jihoon arches slightly against Mingyu’s touch, letting his crotch rub against one of Mingyu’s thick thighs—oh god, it feels so good—and breathes out, “I can’t wait anymore.”

“Fuck,” Mingyu agrees, sounding slightly punch-drunk, and with his hand remaining on the small of Jihoon’s back, fingers fanning out to cover more ground, he leads him away from the dance floor and out towards the back of the club, where a supremely cramped set of stairs leads to the second floor, which is presumably saved for the club’s seedy, secret offers of “lady favours”. Mingyu doesn’t waste any time in nudging him forwards to go up first, and Jihoon is well aware that the height and angle of the stairs gives Mingyu a very good view of his ass. He hopes, for the sake of this night going well, that the kid is satisfied with what he sees.

He’s never gotten close enough in a hunt to get to this point, but he can see as they reach the landing that there are several rooms, some closed, others open. Mingyu wastes no time in ushering him into one of the empty rooms, flipping on a light switch to reveal a shitty double bed with rickety nightstands on either side, a small bathroom, and a window overlooking the rain-splattered neon night outside.

“One of my friends booked it when we first arrived,” Mingyu says by way of an unasked explanation, shutting the door behind him and making sure it’s locked. “I don’t care whether he was planning on using it or not, it’s occupied now.”

He turns back to face Jihoon, an unmistakeable look in his eyes. Jihoon’s legs feel shaky, his organs turning to jelly and goo, bones liquefying. He wants to kiss Mingyu, wants to run his hands over every inch of his body, wants to sit on his dick and fuck himself silly with it until he forgets his own fucking name. More than any of that, he wants to sink his teeth into that golden Grecian column of a neck and drink fresh human blood for the very first time.

He practically runs over to Mingyu and grabs him roughly by the hair, dragging him down into a kiss.

Mingyu makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat that quickly disintegrates into a low groan, wasting no time in responding eagerly to the kiss and wrapping his strong arms around Jihoon, practically lifting him up onto his toes in the sudden frantic desire to press together as closely as possible. Jihoon’s head is spinning, wild with the sticky-sweet traces of cosmo still left on Mingyu’s lips, the saltiness of his sweat. Mingyu’s tongue licks its way into his mouth, forceful, unyielding, and the two of them stumble backwards onto the bed.

Jihoon’s not quite sure what happens next: he thinks it’s the drinks in his system and the aromatic, cloying thickness of nightclub air even all the way up here and the intoxicating smell of blood beneath skin, but he’s only vaguely aware of Mingyu helping him tear his shirt off, quickly followed by his jeans—he remembers cursing as he tries to yank the tight material down his thighs, Mingyu huffing out an amused laugh above him—until suddenly he’s lying against burgundy red sheets, naked except for his thin black boxers and a single sock that didn’t manage to come off with his boots, attached to Mingyu by the mouth.

Mingyu’s shirtless, and Jihoon runs his cold hands across dark skin wrapped tight across pecs and abs, completely amazed at the sheer blinding _warmth_ of human flesh. Mingyu groans when Jihoon’s cold fingers brush against his nipples, before letting out a dorky, childish laugh that somehow makes him all the more attractive.

“You’re good,” he huffs, hands pressing promising bruises into the slight curve of Jihoon’s hips, massaging his bare thighs. “You ever fucked like this before?”

He should say yes, right? He’s a hunter, goddammit, he’s hunting, he needs to make this guy believe he’s worth a good fuck. “N-no,” he stutters out instead because he’s stupid, tugging handfuls of Mingyu’s dark hair before sneaking his hands down to try and desperately wrestle off Mingyu’s jeans, palming Mingyu’s thickness non-too-gently and making him grunt. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” Jihoon chokes out a surprised laugh, overwhelmed and champagne-giddy and giggling into his palms as Mingyu tugs off his jeans himself, grabbing a small bottle and thin wrappers from his back pocket before he tosses the article of clothing aside. “Usually wait until at least a third date. Let’s consider this a learning experience. C’mon, get naked.”

It’s fun, Jihoon thinks as he fights back a grin and shyly pulls down his boxers, self-conscious to show his naked body in front of a complete stranger but wow this is _fun,_ or at least it’s fun doing this with Mingyu. He doesn’t get a chance to feel embarrassed or to start second-guessing his thin limbs and soft stomach; Mingyu lets out quiet little noises of appreciation, bit-back gasps as his eyes blatantly take in Jihoon’s cock, flushed pink and bobbing a little as he lies back against the sheets.

“Wow, you’re gorgeous,” Mingyu grunts, one finger trailing its way carefully up the length of Jihoon’s dick. Jihoon gasps and jerks his hips, cock twitching. “The prettiest dick I’ve ever seen. You’re a goddamn work of art, hyung.”

He thinks he could die happy after this. Once he feels Mingyu’s cock deep inside him (that bulge tenting his boxers promises a very entertaining time), once he tastes his blood, he thinks this could only be the highest point in his life and nothing else can top it. Mingyu’s hand wraps around his shaft, pumping slowly, and Jihoon shudders violently with a weak moan.

“R-really?” he squeaks, oddly shy and flattered after the strange compliment.

“ _Fuck_ yes, hyung,” Mingyu’s voice is thick with lust and reverent, planting enthusiastic wet kisses along Jihoon’s dick as his free hand fumbles with the bottle of lube. “Pretty and pink, just for me. God, how do you not have people climbing over you every second of the fucking day, how am _I_ so lucky to get to fuck you?”

Jihoon feels hot and numb all over, flushed all the way down to his chest, and his moans only grow higher when Mingyu laps at the precum beading up from his slit. Nobody’s ever talked to him like this before, treated him like this, nobody’s ever made him feel so _special._ If he was any dumber, he might be flattered enough to think he’s falling in love with this human.

“Then g-get a move on before I— _hnghh—_ change my mah-mind.”

Mingyu takes this threat seriously, and he nudges Jihoon’s thighs apart to press a lubed-up finger to his opening. Jihoon hisses and breathes in sharply through his nose, the feeling wholly unfamiliar and the burn strange. There’s one part of his brain that’s lucid enough to know that while he’s no stranger to fingering it’s been a while since he’s last practiced, and this time it’s being done with another person. He shifts his hips and tries to hide his slight wince, frantic to get used to the feeling and get to the good part already.

“Tight,” Mingyu mumbles against his inner thigh, where he’s been sucking tiny red hickeys into the soft flesh. “Been a while?”

God, he can’t let this guy know he’s been a virgin for over forty years. “Yeah,” he chokes out, hands clenching around the sheets beneath him as Mingyu slowly adds another finger. There’s a spark of pleasure laced in with the dull pain, just enough to make him want this to continue. “B-been a long time.”

“I got you, hyung.” And when he pulls away to add more lube to his fingers he smiles down at Jihoon, suddenly earnest and heartfelt, a youthful sweet look that makes Jihoon’s vampiric-Turned heart skip several beats. “I’ll be gentle, tell me if it hurts.”

From what Jeonghan’s told him, most one-night stands tend to be rushed, a whirlwind of hands and teeth and wildness that comes with the desire to fool around with strangers, but when Mingyu puts all his focus in stretching out Jihoon’s hole, prepping him as best as he can, the only word Jihoon can think of is “gentle”, just as Mingyu promised.

It’s soft and slow, almost painfully intimate. He stares up at the ugly cracked ceiling and focuses on his breathing as the human above him works him slowly through the burn, until he starts feeling the bliss of Mingyu’s fingers curling against his walls, crying out sharply when blunt fingers find his prostate gland and begin to massage it. The hips he had been undulating to try and accommodate himself to the sensation now begin to thrust shallowly, fucking himself down onto Mingyu’s fingers. When he manages to focus his vision, he sees Mingyu looking at him with pupils blown wide, breaths shallow, dick straining deliciously in his boxers.

“Another finger, hyung?” he whispers, not waiting for an answer as he begins to twist in a third. Jihoon shudders as the digits, thick and long and bigger than any toy he’s used before, carefully fuck him open, and his tongue curls around a howl when he feels a fourth press insistently against his opening.

“P-please,” he whimpers, disoriented but needing it so badly, needing so _much._ “N-no more, I can—I can take it, I want it, _please—_ ”

“Don’t be greedy, hyung,” Mingyu whispers, voice hoarse and very blatantly fighting for some self-control, fidgeting uncomfortably on the mattress from how hard he is. “I’ve got a big dick, and you have such a small body. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

Even in the haze clouding his brain, Jihoon manages to snort. “Well, aren’t you confident in yourself,” he mutters shakily.

Mingyu jabs his fingers in extra-hard for his attitude, smirking when Jihoon shrieks. There’s muffled moans and steady banging on the thin wall next to them, from another room. Jihoon can’t believe any of this is real.

“Alright, hyung, if you’re so smart.”

He yanks down his boxers without ceremony, tossing them carelessly aside and reaching for the bottle of lube and condoms. Jihoon makes a choked, half-terrified noise and instantly regrets his words because _yep,_ Mingyu was _not_ exaggerating. He thinks he’s only ever seen a cock this size and girth in pornos, and he’s instantly torn between fear (will that even fit him?) and a hunger different from what he usually experiences, one that makes his dick blurt out more precum and the sudden emptiness inside of him ache wildly.

Mingyu seems smug when he catches sight of Jihoon’s wrecked expression, but it quickly falls back into a slight frown of concern. “Tell me if it hurts, hyung,” he says, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss on his lips as he gets into position, hooking one of Jihoon’s legs over his broad shoulder as he slowly and steadily pushes in. He stops about halfway once Jihoon starts hissing in pain, and waits patiently for the changes in Jihoon’s expressions before moving again.

He’s _full._ Dear god, he feels so fucking full. Jihoon thinks he might split apart from this sensation, from the overwhelming stretch and tightness and the slightly gross squelch of lube.

Mingyu groans in his ear, deep and raspy, as he manages to completely bottom out. Jihoon’s head is spinning, his teeth are stinging, he—fuck, that’s right, he can’t be enjoying this too much, shit he needs to _bite_ him!

Unfortunately, Mingyu uses that exact moment to start moving, starting with shallow thrusts for Jihoon to get used to the feeling before gradually escalating in power and speed. Jihoon hiccups out a long, too-loud moan, horribly embarrassed because he just knows Jeonghan might be able to hear him even through all the music downstairs, but he can’t stop himself when every push manages to move the squeaky bed until the headboard smacks into the wall and his dick slaps his stomach from the force.

Mingyu is very vocal, which is strangely endearing, and he too doesn’t stop groaning and grunting at the sensation even through a condom. “So good, Jihoonie-hyung,” he pants, beads of sweat trickling down his skin, words ending in a high whine. “So good and tight, fuck, you feel so good on my dick, baby.”

Jihoon can only let out a high-pitched, wavering moan in response, hands scrabbling for purchase on Mingyu’s chest and shoulders. He doesn’t have much time, he needs to start feeding before either one of them comes. He’s helpless on his back, though, their position making it almost impossible for him to reach up for Mingyu’s neck.

Desperate, he resorts to clawing at Mingyu’s forearms, blubbering out a pathetic, “Kiss me, please—kiss, _kiss—_ ”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind at all—he looks outrageously pleased, in fact—manhandling Jihoon easily into a better position so he can bend down to press his lips against him, still dragging out a steady pace against his ass, a rhythm that’s meant to prolong and enjoy the moment rather than push them closer to the edge. Once he’s down, Jihoon hooks his ankles around his back (the position only makes Mingyu’s cock grind against the side of his prostate with each jerk of his hips, so he doesn’t mind at all) and kisses him as hard as he can, doesn’t let up until Mingyu is gasping for breath and staring at him with a dazed, almost dumbstruck look in his eyes.

Jihoon quickly takes this opportunity to press smacking, sloppy kisses down his jaw, his neck—he takes a moment to close his eyes and inhale, relishing the sweet scent emanating from this part of the body—before sinking in his teeth.

The body above him shudders and jerks, at first with a yelp of pain that quickly becomes a loud moan as the vampire bite works its magic. Mingyu’s hips still when Jihoon starts to suck, slowly drawing some blood into his mouth, but then Jihoon actually _feels_ the cock inside of him throb and pulse, and Mingyu lets out the most lewd, guttural noise he’s ever heard in his life and starts fucking him again, even harder than before.

Jihoon can’t get enough of this taste. It’s unlike anything he’s ever had before—fuck stored blood, fuck pity donations in sealed bags and styrofoam cups. Mingyu’s blood is hot and rich, the kind of complexity only expensive, well-crafted gifts can bear. He drinks greedily, moaning at both the taste filling up his senses and Mingyu’s hips screwing into him so fast he can barely distinguish one lunge from the other.

Mingyu is mumbling and gasping into his ear, words like “Fuck, _hyung,_ ” and “shit, you feel so good” and “Jihoon, _Jihoon,_ ” until he’s desperate and scrambling forwards and angling his hips further and his dick digs hard right alongside Jihoon’s prostate. Jihoon almost chokes on the blood coating his tongue, gurgling out a happy moan as every possible part of his senses becomes overwhelmed with each drag against the spongy tissue.

The heat rushing down his throat is also making its way up his fingers and toes towards his spine, towards the base of his dick, white-hot and blinding and thundering in his rapid pulse. He quickly suctions his lips against the wound on Mingyu’s neck, determined not to let any go to waste. He can feel, from the reverberations of Mingyu’s wild moans and the sudden stutter and jerk of his hips, that he’s close to coming too, so Jihoon sneaks one of his hands down to tug at his own cock and speed up the process, crying out into the sweaty skin of Mingyu’s neck.

“ _Hyung,_ ” Mingyu groans before coming, his hips slamming in hard and staying there, grinding in deeper. It’s enough to make Jihoon come, too, and he bites down a bit harder than he should on Mingyu’s neck in response, letting out a small scream in-between his eager gulping of blood as he feels cum splatter across his stomach and chest.

Mingyu ruts into him slowly and lazily, just fucking them through the aftershocks until they’re both gasping at the oversensitivity and he pulls out. Jihoon quickly laps at the bleeding wound to make it close up before letting go of him and sinking back down into the sheets, sighing blissfully and feeling warm and fuzzy and boneless all over.

This is unlike any sort of post-orgasm glow he’s ever felt before, his very veins feeling scorching hot and alive. He can only hope that, while Mingyu is weak from loss of blood and losing the vampire high, he’ll be willing to cuddle Jihoon for a bit before they leave and never see each other again.

The thought of this being possibly the last time they fuck hurts, somewhat, which makes Jihoon frown and subtly pinch himself. No feelings, especially not for a human, he warns himself. Don’t fall for your prey.

It’s only then, when the buzz lessens slightly, that he realizes Mingyu hasn’t collapsed down next to him—instead, he hears choking noises, and he leans up on his elbows to see a confused, wobbly Mingyu clutching at his neck, red liquid spurting out from between his fingers and splattering all over his naked body and the sheets.

Jihoon sits straight up, ignoring the faint dizziness that comes with the head rush, instantly realizing what he had just done: his dumb ass must have accidentally hit a major artery, and the blood is pumping out faster than the wound can heal itself.

In other words, Mingyu’s bleeding out right in front of him.

“S-shit! Fuck! Jeonghan-hyung! _Jeonghan!_ ”

 

“It could’ve been worse,” Jeonghan says in a tone that implies this is very much the worst. “You could’ve killed him.”

Jihoon glares at him, eyes red-rimmed from a long night of hysterical tears. “Wow, hyung, _thanks._ ”

They’re back in Jihoon’s apartment. Jihoon’s changed into his baggiest, softest sweater for some sort of physical comfort, and both he and Jeonghan (Jeonghan is still dressed in his club outfit, eyes smudged with messy eyeliner) are looking down at Mingyu’s unconscious, thankfully mostly-clothed body sprawled out on Jihoon’s bed, blood-stained gauze wrapped around his neck.

“You’re so fucking lucky Minghao is a nursing student,” Jeonghan muses, shaking glitter out of his hair. “And that I managed to hear you. Otherwise he might not be here and you might be forced to flee the country or risk charges of manslaughter.”

Jihoon’s throat hitches at the thought that _he could’ve killed Mingyu_ and he lets out a snarl. “ _Wow,_ hyung, _thanks._ ”

Minghao emerges from the washroom and hears the last half of their conversation. “Alright, Jeonghan-hyung, that’s enough,” he says with a disapproving frown. “Jihoon-hyung, we should probably get going. Will you be alright by yourself?”

No. Not remotely. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll call if I need anything.”

The two of them leave, and Jihoon stands there in exhausted silence, watching until he is one hundred percent absolutely certain that the rise and fall of Mingyu’s chest means he’s breathing, before heading to his living room to crash on the couch. It isn’t until late in the afternoon that Jihoon hears a ragged groan from the direction of his bedroom, and when he looks up from his computer he sees Mingyu stumble out, keeping a hand on the wall for balance, and stagger his way down the hallway. When he sees Jihoon sitting at the dining table (which has since become Jihoon’s work desk, piled with papers and files and all his desktop equipment), he stops dead, and the two of them stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment.

“How long was I out?” Mingyu asks, words sloppy and falling over each other like dead fish.

“About fifteen hours,” Jihoon says, not willing to move a muscle. He’s scared to make a move. “You should probably rest longer, though, your body needs to heal itself.”

Mingyu looks around for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar apartment. “I’m not dead,” he says eventually.

“Should you be?”

“Last I remember, I was losing a _lot_ of blood.” He hesitates for a moment, eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. Jihoon stares at his messy bedhead hair sticking out every which way and the awkwardly fitted clothes Jeonghan managed to grab from the club’s lost and found bin (since they needed to wash his clothes and Jihoon doesn’t own anything that can fit him), and somehow even with dried drool smeared across one cheek he _still_ looks absolutely stunning. This is ridiculous.

“Did _you …_ do that to me?” He says it slowly, like he genuinely is having trouble remembering. The bite tends to do that.

“Maybe I should explain. I’m, um, I’m a vampire. I didn’t mean to do that, I swear to god I wasn’t trying to kill you, I just wanted a little bit of blood.”

Mingyu manages to make his way over to the couch and collapses down. He continues looking at him, bewildered. “You’re a vampire,” he repeats, slowly. His eyes eventually widen in realization as the words trigger a memory that had previously been sealed away. “You bit me.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon’s stomach churns, immediately fearful. There’s not necessarily a rule anywhere stating humans aren’t allowed to learn about their existence, but, well, he’s heard the stories of humans who have, and stories of humans who don’t take it well, and the kinds of things they sometimes try to do. Things that involve handmade wooden stakes and setting vamps on fire and occasionally losing their minds. He hopes the laptop screen is blocking the way his hands tremble once he remembers exactly how big and strong Mingyu is, how easily he had been able to throw Jihoon around the other night, and how very very alone the two of them are. “I did.”

“You drank my blood.”

He’s rushing to get the words out. “I swear to god, hurting you like that was _not_ intentional. Vamps don’t kill people, I promise.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to be listening to him. He looks lost in his own little world, even as his eyes remain locked on Jihoon’s small form on the other side of the room. This is not the look of someone who’s planning on killing a vampire. It’s something Jihoon’s never really seen before, something almost wondering and wanting and— “It felt really _good,_ ” he breathes.

Jihoon stares at him before promptly wanting to kill _himself_. Trust some horny twenty-something to focus on the least important part of this entire conversation. “Look, maybe I should explain some things to you so—”

“Can you do it again?” Mingyu blurts out.

Jihoon stares at him. “Do _what?_ ”

“Drink. My blood.”

“You’re fucking crazy. You nearly _died_ last night, does that not bother you?” When Mingyu’s half-dazed, half-sheepish expression tells him that it does not in fact seem to be bothering him right now, Jihoon groans and stands up, padding over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. “No, I will not. You’re very weak and you lost a lot of blood, I’m not about to go repeating the process all over again less than a day later.”

His sharp senses pick up on the way Mingyu’s eyes darken and his breath hitches when he approaches him. He frowns and shoves the glass into Mingyu’s hands before taking a seat in the chair farthest from the couch, watching pointedly until Mingyu gets the hint and drinks deeply.

“You don’t have to, like, do it on my neck, do you?” Mingyu asks once he’s drained the glass and wiped his mouth clean. “Like, will it still feel good if you bite me anywhere else?”

“I don’t know,” Jihoon admits.

“Well, just, uh, try it? And see? Here—” he holds out one of his hands, wiggling his fingers. “Just try, like, my thumb or something. I won’t die from blood loss from my _thumb,_ will I?” When Jihoon remains where he is and continues frowning at him he shakes his whole arm. “C’mon, hyung. Jihoon-hyung. Aren’t you thirsty? Don’t vamps need blood? Here I am, offering some to you.”

This kid is an idiot, Jihoon decides. He must be genuinely, truly godawful stupid to react this way when someone straight up tells him they’re a fucking _vampire._

But he’s right here and he’s _willing,_ and the taste of his blood is still thick on Jihoon’s tongue and roof of his mouth. He’s uncertain if any other human will ever taste this good, or if he’ll ever get the chance to drink fresh blood again after the trauma that was last night.

He licks his lips against his will, aware that Mingyu’s eyes follow the action with an anticipatory little grin crawling up his face. He slowly, very slowly, gets up and walks over to Mingyu, grabbing his arm and keeping his eyes narrowed for any sense of panic or fear. There’s none, only excitement and the beginning traces of arousal.

This guy is so _dumb._

He uses one of his fangs to dig into the skin of his thumb until Mingyu lets out a small whimper of pain and the skin breaks, dark blood starting to bead out. Jihoon wraps his mouth around the digit, lapping and sucking at the blood with a small groan at the warm, chocolatey-sweet taste. The sound is almost immediately drowned by Mingyu’s louder groan, his head thrown back in sudden pleasure, body tensing, back arching, toes curling.

Jihoon loves the taste, craves it, but he manages to control himself and give it one last lick to close the wound before stepping away, licking his lips to make sure he got every drop.

Mingyu is breathing hard, clutching his neck in what might be pain from overexertion, but he’s sweating and fidgeting and he’s sporting a sizeable bulge in the boxers he’s wearing (Jihoon regrets putting all his clothes in the wash, he regrets it _so_ much right now).

“Hyung,” he gasps out, reaching forwards to grab Jihoon’s arm, try to pull him closer. “Ahh, hyung, please, _please—_ ”

“No,” Jihoon stammers out, even as his own heart rate begins to speed up and the taut muscles on Mingyu’s thighs look tantalizing to sit on, grind himself to completion. “ _No._ You wanted to find out if it worked, now we know it does. I’m not—I-I’m—you nearly died, for fuck’s sakes! Can you stop and think for a minute?”

“Don’t wanna think,” Mingyu whines, tugging harder at Jihoon’s wrist. “Please, I need this so bad, hyung, _please_.”

Jihoon’s mouth goes dry. The height difference isn’t great, but standing up and looking down at Mingyu’s slumped form gives him a sense of power, and for Mingyu to be begging like this when Jihoon was the one pleading for his cock only half a day ago— _well, I was the one who did this to him, the least I can do is help him be more comfortable._

At least, that’s the lie he tells himself when he drops down to his knees in front of Mingyu and starts pulling a bit too eagerly at his underwear band, Mingyu squeaking in surprise and lifting his hips.

Seeing it up close, Mingyu’s cock is thick and red, a size so big Jihoon can’t believe it was even in him last night. He’s never done this before, and yet his mouth waters at the idea of swallowing it down, the idea of Mingyu fucking his mouth until he’s choking. It’s concerning how big of an effect this human has on him, but the sound of Mingyu’s hitched little “ _Ahh-ah-ah-ah!”_ cries when Jihoon traces a throbbing vein with his tongue gets rid of any worries.

Mingyu’s already so far gone it hardly takes any time at all. Jihoon takes it in his mouth (there’s a bit of a stretch _already,_ Jesus Christ) and begins to bob his head, only managing to get his mouth maybe halfway as one of his hands fists whatever else he can’t reach. Mingyu’s hips are twitching and jumping a little beneath him, but judging by the tension in the muscles by his pelvis he’s actively keeping himself from fucking up into Jihoon’s mouth. He’s slightly disappointed, but that’s probably best—he doesn’t need his very first real dick-sucking experience to be memories of him trying not to gag or throw up.

He presses his lips down and sucks as hard as he can, and with one last cry of “Hyung!” Mingyu’s hips jerk up—Jihoon gags after all—and he’s coming. Jihoon grimaces as hot wet spunk fills his mouth, and he awkwardly swallows as much of it as he can before he pulls away to gasp for air, jaw aching, a bit of spit and cum running down from the corner of his mouth that he has to wipe away with a grimace.

As Mingyu’s breathing evens out, Jihoon helps him yank his boxers back up and rises stiffly up on his feet, hard in his jeans and embarrassed for practically no reason at all.

“Let me help,” Mingyu pants, hands reaching up to grip his waist and prevent him from moving away from his spot between Mingyu’s toned thighs.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Jihoon stammers, but he doesn’t move away or stop him even as Mingyu’s fingers begin to unzip his pants and wriggle them down to his knees. “I said it’s fine, you don’t need to—”

Mingyu looks up and gives him the most ridiculously sweet smile, something radiant and beaming, and Jihoon thinks he might genuinely die. “I want to, hyung,” he says, before pulling Jihoon’s boxers down to wrap a hot, sweaty hand around his leaking cock.

Jihoon shudders as Mingyu wastes no time in pumping his hand at a steady, hard pace, his grip maybe a bit too tight but intense enough for Jihoon’s legs to tremble and for him to lean forwards, bracing his hands on the couch on either side of Mingyu’s head as he whines breathily. Mingyu looks up at his face intently as his other hand snakes up to casually fondle his balls, gathering precum in his palms to make the slide easier. Jihoon’s knees are trembling so hard he thinks he really might fall after all; his fingers clench into the fabric of the couch as hard as he can, hips starting to move in time with Mingyu’s hand, trying to fuck himself into Mingyu’s fist.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says, and when Jihoon wrenches his eyes open to look down at him Mingyu leans up and kisses him. It’s not fierce or sloppy or passionate; it’s soft, mostly just their lips brushing together and swallowing the desperate gasps and soft whimpers that fall out of Jihoon’s mouth when Mingyu’s thumb teases the underside of his cock in a way that implies he’s very familiar with how to give good handjobs.

“Mingyu,” Jihoon whispers into his lips, and all it takes is Mingyu’s long pretty eyelashes to flutter at him and he tenses up, sobs, and comes all over himself and Mingyu. Luckily for him, his cum lands on Mingyu rather than his couch. Mingyu doesn’t seem to care that his borrowed shirt is now stained with white; his hand remains on Jihoon’s softening cock, still slowly pumping him until it gets too overwhelming and Jihoon pushes him away with a ragged inhale, pulls his jeans back up.

“You should probably go,” Jihoon says, which is totally not what he meant to say and feels even worse when it’s said right after receiving a fantastic handjob from the guy. But, well, he’s panicking a bit. “People might be worried about you. And, um, can you promise not to tell anyone about me?”

Mingyu is still staring up at him with an expression like he had just been punched in the face, his hand still covered in Jihoon’s cum. “I need clothes.”

Shit, that’s right. “Your, um, the clothes you were wearing are in the dryer. They should be done in like a few more minutes.”

“Then we have some time to talk, don’t we? I wanna know more about vampires.” Mingyu looks down at his cum-stained hand, as if debating whether to lick it off or wipe it dry. Jihoon staggers backwards into the chair farthest away from Mingyu again, secretly dying to know which choice he’ll make.

“Well, I _did_ almost kill you—by accident—at the club, so it’s only fair.” He gestures awkwardly. “Um. Ask away.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste any time. “Are you immortal?”

“Sort of? We kinda just live a really long time.”

“Do crosses and garlic kill you?”

“No, that’s stupid.”

“What about wooden stakes?”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at him. “Anybody can die from a well-placed wooden stake, Mingyu.”

Mingyu giggles. “That’s true.” The drying cum on his hand is starting to make Jihoon go crazy. _Just get rid of it already!_ he wants to scream, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. “Okay. Uh, why does your bite feel so good?”

“No idea, really,” Jihoon admits. “I mean, according to what my Host—er, the guy who Turned me—said, as humanity started pulling away from the Dark Ages it just became harder and harder to get away with killing someone and draining of them of their blood. And, like, it wasn’t even necessary, you know? Because we can survive just fine off of animals or even just a little bit of human blood every month or so. Killing them every time so they couldn’t go screaming about our existence was a bit overkill, and plus, the whole drained-of-their-blood thing kinda gave it away, anyway.”

Mingyu nods solemnly. “Understandable.” Jihoon wonders how someone so tall and gorgeous can still seem so cute.

“I guess it was like, evolution or some shit? I dunno, somehow our vamp brains sorta rewired themselves into thinking, ‘you know what? If humans actually felt good when they were bitten, then they won’t try to fight it or run away’. And then somehow it became easier to do it when vampires were, uh, having sex with humans, because it’s easier to attribute the pleasure of the bite to pleasure from sex and mask the whole feeding part. Most humans who are hunted that way tend to just wake up the next morning a little light-headed with a couple bruises on their neck, and they’ll just pass it off as having a really nice fuck.”

Mingyu looks ridiculously fascinated, scratching absent-mindedly at the gauze around his neck. But then, suddenly, a shadow seems to pass over his face and he looks a little troubled and almost … hurt? “Is that what you were doing last night, hyung? Hunting me?”

Jihoon shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, well, yeah.”

Mingyu frowns. “So you were lying when you said you’ve never had a one-night stand before?”

“I—no, well—”

“I could’ve been anyone? You didn’t care who you went home with so long as you got to feed off of _somebody?”_

Jihoon doesn’t know what to do. Mingyu is looking genuinely upset about this and judging by the way he’s staring at his bare feet and refuses to look up, like a little kid, he might actually be starting to tear up a bit, too. “Mingyu, can you not freak out about this, please? Last night wasn’t—”

“I really liked you!” Mingyu bursts out unhappily. “I was really attracted to hyung the moment I saw you and I was s-so nervous approaching you like that. I’m _sorry_ if my feelings are hurt because I found out the guy I wanted so badly was just using me to get blood out of it—”

“Mingyu, it’s not like that!” Jihoon rubs at his temples, exhausted just talking to this kid. Somewhere beneath his exasperation, he can feel his heart suddenly pounding double-time, skipping hard like a scratched record. Mingyu really did mean to approach him last night. Mingyu was attracted to him. _Mingyu wanted him._ “Look, _yes,_ I technically was only looking for someone to feed on last night and when I saw you were willing I took the opportunity. But—but—it wasn’t all that, okay? I—” his cheeks flush pink just saying these words out loud, “—I w-wanted you too.”

Mingyu perks up a bit at that, but his eyes are still watery and he still looks hurt, punched-in-the-heart kind of hurt. It’s incredibly unfair of him to look at Jihoon like that. “But if someone else was willing, you would’ve taken them upstairs anyway, right?”

Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. “Mingyu, I’ve never had sex with _anybody_ before, not even when I was a human! If anyone else was willing, I’d probably panic and mess things up, or I’d get cold feet and run away. You were my first everything—first fuck, first feed—a-and I, I wanted you too.” He swallows, throat dry not from thirst, but from nerves. “Trust me. I wanted you more than anyone else too.”

Mingyu stares at him for a long moment. Then, finally, “You were a _virgin?”_

Jihoon groans. Does Mingyu ever pay attention to the important things people say, or does he only fixate on the strange, inconsequential bits? “Yes! Holy shit.”

“Wuh—but— _hyung._ ” Mingyu scrabbles up to his feet and stalks over to him. Jihoon flinches and curls up as hard as he can against the chair, knowing by now not to trust anything Mingyu does within a five feet radius of him. Mingyu doesn’t try anything suspicious, though, he just sinks to his knees in front of Jihoon, hands pressing at his thighs in an intimate but strangely non-sexual manner. “So when I asked you if—if you’ve never done this before and you said no, you didn’t mean one-night stands, you meant ‘done it _ever_ ’, right?”

Jihoon flushes under his earnest, puppy-dog gaze. “Plenty of twenty-seven-year-old vampires are virgins,” he mutters defensively.

“Well, I don’t care about your age, hyung!” Mingyu’s fingers—belonging to the hand _not_ currently covered in dried spunk, thank god—reach up to press against the side of Jihoon’s face, warm and comforting and genuinely heartfelt. “Hyung, if I knew you’ve never done this before, I would’ve made it more special than a quick fuck in an upstairs nightclub room. I would’ve—would’ve been more gentle, more considerate, I would’ve made sure you loved everything about it.”

“It was already pretty good,” Jihoon mumbles, thinking he might die of embarrassment.

“Let me make it up to you.” Mingyu’s hand inches further up his thigh. “Let’s have a do-over, I’ll make it perfect this time. I-I don’t feel that dizzy anymore either, so you can probably feed on me again too.”

“No,” Jihoon says, pointedly moving Mingyu’s hands back down to a safer distance away from his crotch. He can still smell Mingyu’s blood, can hear it moving in his body, but after feeding twice he’s sated and content and it’s much, much easier to push him away. “You need to get your clothes from the dryer, put them on, and get the fuck out. You seriously need to rest up. And I’m not feeding from you again until you do.”

Mingyu smiles at him, a teasing little grin that knocks all the air out of Jihoon’s lungs. “So there’s gonna be a next time, huh?”

Jihoon kicks him away, blush deepening as he escapes towards the safety of the hallway, towards the direction of the laundry room. Mingyu jumps up and follows after him like an excitable dog. Jihoon’s almost tempted to scratch behind his ears. He might have to reach up quite a bit to do so, but he thinks he can manage. Maybe he can make Mingyu bend down for him.

“They’re dry,” he announces, throwing Mingyu’s jeans and shirt at him. “Do you have money for a bus or taxi or whatever?”

“So long as you didn’t take a peek inside my wallet, yeah,” Mingyu huffs, hopping on one leg as he struggles with his pants and nearly topples over.

“Since Jeonghan was here, you should probably double-check before you go.”

Mingyu straightens up and peels off the awkward lost and found shirt, revealing a dazzling expanse of dark skin for a few seconds as he pulls on his shirt from last night. “I still want to do things right,” Mingyu insists, persistent to the very end. “I feel terrible making you have your first time in some seedy bedroom above a club. Let me take you to dinner, and, like, movies or something. Whatever vampires are interested in, I guess. And then you can feed off of me later.” When Jihoon gives him a curious, albeit rather unimpressed look, he smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? It feels so fucking good. I don’t think I can look at my vibrating dildo the same way ever again now that I’ve got a kink for your vampy bites.”

“Oh my god.” Jihoon doesn’t know where to start. Vibrating dildo? _Kink?_

Mingyu must see the mix of arousal and shock on Jihoon’s face, because his cute smile turns a little more predatory and he takes a few careful steps closer to Jihoon, until he’s right in his personal space and looking down down down at him.

“What?” he croons. “You think I’m too big and manly to shove something up my ass? I don’t just like giving it, hyung … sometimes I like _taking_ it too.”

Jihoon knows what the correct course of action is: he should push Mingyu away, tell him he’s being lewd, and maybe give him his phone number before kicking his ass out the door. Instead, he does the next worst thing: he lets out an uneven inhale and a meek “Fuck” under his breath, which Mingyu picks up on straightaway.

“That could be fun, huh, hyung?” Mingyu says softly. “Stretching me open, fucking me. I’ll make sure I’m hot and tight for you to put your dick inside, so you can make me squirm and _beg_ for your pretty pink cock. And then you can feed on me, bite me anywhere you want, make me scream until my throat is hoarse and I’m sobbing beneath you because I just feel so fucking _good._ ” He reaches up to lightly trail his fingers up Jihoon’s arm, up towards his neck, where his neatly trimmed fingernails scratch carefully at Jihoon’s faint Bite scar, listening intently to Jihoon’s shaky gasps for air. “Would you like that, hyung? Being so in control of me? Make me squirm on your dick, cry out for more? Make me beg you and say _‘hyung, hyung please’_ —”

Jihoon grabs a fistful of Mingyu’s hair and roughly pulls him down for a kiss.

Mingyu reciprocates in kind, and the two of them don’t stop until they’re both pressed as tightly together as they can, rubbing against each other like cats in heat, moaning into each other’s mouths. Mingyu’s already reaching down for his zipper when Jihoon shoves him away, panting, lips swollen and cheeks flushed furiously.

“You—” he growls, “—have. To. _Rest._ Don’t make me want to—don’t make me start thinking of these things.” Jihoon stares at him with bright eyes and a pounding heart, wondering what even is happening anymore, why all his decades of self-control and sense of reason completely shuts down in front of this beautiful, tall idiot. He grabs Mingyu’s wrist and drags him away, down the hall and out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

Mingyu is left standing in the hallway outside of Jihoon’s apartment, struck dumb for a few seconds, a silly dizzy grin playing at his lips. Eventually, he turns around and knocks on the door. “Hyung,” he calls out, “I need my shoes.”

There’s a couple seconds of silence, before the door opens just enough for Jihoon’s hand to toss out both Mingyu’s shoes and a piece of paper containing his phone number.

Mingyu laces his shoes up and pockets the number carefully, grinning. This hyung is honestly the cutest.

He’s just about to turn and leave when—

“Wait, hyung! I should probably wash my hands!”

 

Jihoon spends the next few days in a state of slightly euphoric anxiety. Animal blood has always been good to him, and human blood from donor bags is a real treat—but god, none of it compares to hot, fresh blood right out of a heart-pumping body. The buzz stays beneath his skin for much longer than usual, putting him in such a good mood he even goes out to eat dinner with Jeonghan and Minghao, a situation he usually avoids due to hating to go outside as well as hating being a third wheel.

Jeonghan and Minghao are both relieved that Mingyu took the news of him being a vampire well—relatively well, really, maybe it just hadn’t sunk in yet or whatever—but both are far more intrigued that Mingyu seems so interested in _Jihoon,_ specifically.

“He’s not interested in me, guys,” Jihoon snaps, casually swirling the glass of wine in his hand. He snuck a couple drops of his favourite Type O in there to make it easier to drink, and it’s helping him deal with the absolutely insufferable curiosity of his two friends. “He’s just into getting bitten. I’m his gateway into full-fledged vamp fetishism.”

“Not every human who enjoys getting bitten is a vamp fetishist, Jihoon,” Jeonghan says with a roll of his eyes. “Look at Minghao.”

“That’s different. You two fell in love at first sight. You guys are like,” Jihoon grimaces, “ _made_ for each other or whatever.”

“Yeah, but was our first meeting any different than yours and Mingyu’s?” Minghao argues. “Jeonghan confessed he was a vampire on our fifth date, well after we were already getting intimate, but I didn’t start dating him just for the bite. I genuinely liked him. The bite was just an added bonus. Maybe this Mingyu guy feels the same way.”

Jeonghan is sharp, and he seems to know more about Jihoon’s doubts and second thoughts better than Jihoon himself. “Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you have to live your life all alone,” he says. “What’s the harm in having some fun while you’re around? It’s not like the first human you start a relationship with has be to your partner for life.” He smiles at Minghao, squeezes his hand. “I mean, not unless you’re sure he’s the one.”

Jihoon makes a loud gagging noise before Minghao can start responding in kind. “Guys, please, I’m having a mental breakdown right now.” He chews on his lip, careful to not let his fangs break through the skin. “He texted me earlier today asking if I was free Saturday.”

“Are you gonna do it?”

“I mean, yeah? I guess?” He sighs and ruffles his hair violently. “I find it really hard to say no to him.”

“Ooh, that’s a good sign,” Jeonghan enthuses.

“Yeah, of irrational overdependency on a significant other.”

Jeonghan kicks him underneath the table. “Whatever happens,” he threatens, “you’re going to treat this boy _nice,_ understand? Don’t go breaking his heart just because you’re terrified of commitment or whatever. I’m serious. Don’t you dare.”

 

Mingyu picks him up late Saturday afternoon, looking so handsome with his hair gelled back and a light grey jacket on that Jihoon kind of would rather throw himself off his balcony than be seen together with him. He slides into the passenger seat of Mingyu’s freshly-washed, glossy dark car wearing jeans with the least number of rips and tears in them and a baggy sweater that can hopefully hide the way his nails are bitten down to the quick from nerves.

Mingyu doesn’t seem to care that Jihoon looks so dull and ordinary next to him—he leans in and immediately plants a smooch on Jihoon’s cheek as he’s distracted with the seat belt, mumbling a honey-sweet “You look so cute,” into his ear before leaning away.

“Are you not gonna compliment me?” he asks cheekily as they drive away.

Jihoon splutters in response, flustered and red. “You look fine,” he eventually mutters, clinging to the seat belt as hard as he can so his hands don’t wander and do something stupid. Like palm Mingyu’s crotch at the next red light. Jesus, what is _wrong_ with him?

Mingyu takes him out to see a movie first, just like he promised. Whatever the movie was about, Jihoon can’t remember—all he remembers is that there were lots of explosions and gunshots and fast cars, loud noises that deafen his ears even though they’re sitting all the way in the back row, and sometime about thirty minutes into the start of the movie, Mingyu’s hand lands on his knee.

He tenses up instantly, ready to move the next seat over if need be because _holy shit they’re in a public place what is he thinking,_ but Mingyu doesn’t do anything, at least at first. He just lets it sit there, the weight searing warm and comforting. His thumb rubs firm circles against the joints in Jihoon’s knee until Jihoon finds himself relaxing against his will, sinking into the uncomfortable theatre seat with a sigh that goes unheard in the deafening din of the movie playing, closing his eyes as Mingyu inches up slightly—still in a very innocent way—and massages all the tight knots in Jihoon’s thigh muscles. By the time Jihoon opens his eyes again, his legs feel loose and rubbery and he wonders if he can pay Mingyu to do that to every other part of his body. And then maybe rim him until he’s loose in other places _,_ too. Oh god, he’s such a mess.

He turns his head, and Mingyu’s not even bothering to pretend to pay attention to the movie. He’s staring at Jihoon with a look of absolute wonderment.

For a long moment, the two of them just stare at each other. Jihoon can feel his breath quicken—even in the darkness of the theatre, the light from the movie screen makes Mingyu look eerie and ghostly and too beautiful to touch, eyes bright and strangely intense.

Jihoon can barely think anymore—can’t move away, look away, nothing—and strangely enough, he doesn’t feel the desire to feed, he just feels the desire to be close to Mingyu, to hold him, to crawl into his arms and press kisses against his skin and feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and fall asleep there.

And the sudden desire for that, something so simple, so intimate, so _loving_ , surprises him, and then it scares him. Scares him enough that he slaps Mingyu’s hand away and turns back to face the movie he has no interest in, tightly-wound all over again and anxious and angry.

Mingyu doesn’t make a move to put his hand on him again, and by the end of the movie Jihoon isn’t sure if he’s happy with that outcome or upset. They head out for dinner, a nice restaurant that Jihoon’s never been to before, which really isn’t saying much.

“Can vampires even eat?” Mingyu asks him, a bit too loudly.

Jihoon kicks his shin under the table to remind him to shut the hell up. “Yes,” he hisses his answer anyway. “Sort of. Not much. Only a little bit of human food, or we start feeling sick.”

“I see.” Mingyu flashes him a beaming smile. “Saving the actual dinner for later, right?”

“Actual din—?” _Oh._ Jihoon’s cheeks flush at Mingyu’s insinuation. “Look, maybe we need to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” A waiter arrives with plates of lamb and rice. Jihoon can’t even remember ordering. Maybe Mingyu did it for him?

“About the—” Jihoon glances around first, just to make sure nobody is within earshot. “Getting bitten thing. I just—there are humans out there who know the truth about us vampires, okay? People like you. And some of them, they become really—really into the idea of getting bitten. They like the feeling. A lot of them end up becoming addicted to the bite, and like any junkie it kinda screws up their life. We can’t complain, because vamps won’t push aside willing prey, but I don’t want to see you become that. Maybe we need to—”

Mingyu interrupts him with a small laugh. “Jihoon-hyung, I was only kidding about the bite kink thing. Half-joking, at least. It’s not the bite I’m addicted to.”

Jihoon stares at him, as the taller boy innocently spoons rice into his mouth, cheeks bulging like a child’s. “What?”

“It’s not the bite that I really like,” Mingyu says, mouth full.

Jihoon tears off a tiny piece of lamb and eats it. The texture and consistency is delightful; it’s such a shame Jihoon can only manage maybe a couple more bites of it before he’s forced to stop. “Then why is this happening? Why are you, you asking me out on a date, offering yourself up afterwards?”

Mingyu swallows and gives Jihoon a small wink, eyes glittering. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, when we wake up.”

Jihoon gives him the evil eye. His best attempt at an evil eye, anyway. “What makes you think you’ll be seeing me around tomorrow?”

He’s given a cheeky, but outrageously charming smile in response. “Because I’m planning on going back to your place tonight and fucking your brains out. Then letting you feed off me. Then fuck your brains out again. And then, tomorrow morning, when we wake up, I might fuck you one more time, or you can fuck me, whatever you’re comfortable with, and then maybe I’ll tell you why.”

Jihoon nearly chokes on his small piece of shredded lamb, feeling his face heat up furiously at the absolutely _sinful_ words Mingyu just spoke to him in the middle of a fucking restaurant. A restaurant with other people in it. And _families._

He’s, unfortunately, far more excited about this prospect than he should be.

 

The dinner felt like it went for far too long, and then suddenly it was over and Mingyu insisted on paying for everything, and Jihoon is back in his car and they’re driving back to his apartment and that dinner didn’t go by long enough. Jihoon isn’t sure if he’s terrified or just nervous—maybe both—but all he knows is his entire nether region has begun to throb and ache the moment he heard Mingyu’s promise to fuck him until the sun goes up.

Mingyu’s eyes are bright and beautiful as they enter the building and stand side-by-side in the elevator, Jihoon sweating the whole time. But he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even reach out to touch Jihoon.

It isn’t until they reach his apartment, and Jihoon is fumbling for his keys with shaking hands, does Mingyu press one large palm over his and lean in to quietly say, “Hyung, I don’t want to push you or anything. If you don’t want this to happen, I can just come in for a cup of tea and head on home. Or I can leave now. No pressure.”

Jihoon nearly drops his keys. “What?” he stammers. “Getting second thoughts?” He wouldn’t blame him.

Mingyu breathes out a soft laugh. “Not at all. Jihoon-hyung, I want to fuck you more than anything. But I also don’t want to force you. I know I can be a bit, um, forward with my advances, but if you’re not into this I want to know sooner rather than later, yeah?”

This is his chance to end this, Jihoon tells himself. To put a stop to this before he does something stupid and potentially ruins this beautiful, perfect boy’s life forever. But Jihoon has never been very good at the whole selfless thing, and he’s also so hard it’s almost difficult to walk, so he chooses to answer by spinning around, throwing an arm over Mingyu’s neck, and pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s difficult to try putting a key in a lock and opening a door while also trying to suck on someone’s tongue, but Jihoon is rather proud of himself when he manages it. The two of them stumble inside, Mingyu kicking the door shut with a loud _slam!_ as the two of them nearly trip over themselves to yank off their shoes. It’s almost funny enough to make Jihoon want to laugh—Mingyu certainly does—but as it turns out he isn’t given the time to say or do much of anything.

“Aw, fuck,” Jihoon croaks, as Mingyu slams him up against the wall, strong arms pressing him up up _up_ until his toes can only barely brush the wooden floor, balanced on the knee Mingyu’s shoved in-between his legs. Lips press against Jihoon’s neck, licking and sucking noisily as Jihoon’s breathing starts to stutter. “Aw, _fuck,_ Mingyu.”

“Want it—” Mingyu pants, knee rubbing insistently against Jihoon’s crotch until both of them are moaning into each other’s mouths, “want you so _badly_ , hyung. Fuck, please—can we, can we—?”

“Fuck yes. Oh, Christ.” Mingyu hoists him up even further like he’s a rag doll and Jihoon wraps his legs quickly around Mingyu’s waist, arms around his neck, as Mingyu carries him easily towards his bedroom. Jihoon thinks he might have a size kink, or a power kink, or—or _something,_ because being pushed around and lifted up like he weighs nothing is making his dick strain even harder against his jeans. “Oh, fuck _me_.”

“Of course, baby,” Mingyu grunts, and tosses him onto the bed. Jihoon bounces once, giggling breathlessly at the feeling of going airborne, and for a split second Mingyu’s face softens and he smiles, and the kiss he presses against the corner of Jihoon’s mouth is so affectionate it almost feels loving. “Where’s the lube?”

“C-closet, top shelf. Pink box.”

Jihoon presses his palm against his hard-on and groans at the faint relief, watching as Mingyu stretches up and instantly pulls out the box Jihoon usually needs a chair to get at and stares at the contents inside. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s _my_ line, dumbass.”

Mingyu stares at him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. “You’re a hidden freak, Lee Jihoon.”

The inside of the box contains condoms and bottles of lube, some unopened, some half-finished, but it also contains numerous other toys Jihoon has bought in the past: most of them are dildos of various sizes and lengths (his Host said it’s meant to help train him to not focus too much on the sex when he’s trying to feed but, well, the feeding part didn’t work so now they’re just for his pleasure), but there are some vibrators and anal beads as well, even a fleshlight or two. Whatever caught his fancy when he visited sex toy shops.

“It’s p-practice,” Jihoon says, grinding up against the heel of his palm. “For h-hunting. Supposedly.”

Mingyu drops the entire box onto the floor beside the bed, and he looks adorably overwhelmed—as if he has just witnessed the gates of heaven open to a completely new dimension. “Can I use them on you?” he pants, hands fidgeting, restless, fumbling as he pulls off his shirt and jeans. “Hyung, please, can I? I’ll make it so good for you, I swear.”

“Go to town.” Jihoon sounds far more confident than he actually feels. He stares down at the box of toys he’s used on himself, and his heart rate picks up even faster when he lets it sink in that Mingyu is about to make them ten times better.

Mingyu instantly grabs a fistful of anal beads, grinning delightedly when he sees a small switch that indicates they vibrate. He grabs hold of a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs and turns to Jihoon with a raised eyebrow.

“T-they came with the anal beads,” Jihoon explains, flustered. “Buy-one-get-random-shit-free deal. I … I haven’t exactly used them yet.”

Mingyu fishes out the key and his grin turns slightly evil. “Then we’ll break them in tonight.” He gestures at Jihoon’s still-clothed body. “Strip and move up the bed a bit, hyung.”

When Jihoon stares hesitantly at the cuffs, suddenly nervous at the thought of being unable to touch, to move away, to hold onto anything, Mingyu’s features soften again, although there’s still a playful twinkle in his eye that Jihoon strangely adores. “How about safewords, hyung? Yellow for slow, red for stop entirely. If you can’t use your mouth for whatever reason, snap your fingers, okay?”

Jihoon snaps his fingers just to show him, the sound crisp and loud and definitely capable of being heard even in the throes of passion, before smiling and yanking his shirt off of his body. He can’t believe he’s even saying this, but—he trusts Mingyu, implicitly. He scoots up the bed, sheets rustling against his naked frame, and lets Mingyu cuff his wrists together around one of the rails of his headboard, watches him place the key teasingly on the nightstand just out of reach, and despite everything he feels so safe.

“Don’t be nervous, hyung, okay?” Mingyu whispers, first kissing Jihoon’s lips before mouthing a line down his neck, chest, stomach. “Use those safewords any time you think I’m going too fast. I wanna make you feel good. So good you’ll think of me for the next week, so good you can’t walk afterwards.”

“Fucking do it,” Jihoon gasps, cock twitching when Mingyu blows a puff of hot air onto its very tip. “I-I want you to _wreck_ me, Mingyu.”

Mingyu lets out a noise in response to that which sounds like a cross between a groan and a growl, and before Jihoon can realize what is happening Mingyu’s grabbing him by the ankles, hiking his legs up over his shoulder, and bending down to press his tongue against the rim of Jihoon’s ass.

“Oh _fu—_ ” Jihoon chokes on the curse as Mingyu presses wet, sucking kisses along his rim, the noises so pornographic Jihoon isn’t sure if his dick can get any harder than this. “Fuck, oh, oh god, oh—Mingyu, Min- _gyu,_ holy shit, ho-o-ohh god!”

“Never had anyone eat your ass out before, hyung?” Mingyu says, voice muffled, in-between teasing swipes of the tip of his tongue against the puffy pink ring of muscle.

“You bastard,” Jihoon huffs, hands clenching and jerking against the handcuffs, feet twitching against the firm muscles of Mingyu’s shoulder as he moans and cries out at the sensation. “Y-you _know_ I haven’t, I— _fuck,_ please, oh god put it in me put it in me—”

Mingyu obeys, and Jihoon’s back arches entirely off the bed, spine melting into a puddle, and he practically squeals at the feeling of a tongue _inside of him._ His hips jerk against his will, rutting down onto Mingyu’s tongue in an effort to get it even deeper. Mingyu stifles a laugh as his hands press hard on Jihoon’s hips, keeping him in place, forcing him to take whatever Mingyu is willing to give. Jihoon fucking _loves it,_ holy shit, he loves knowing that Mingyu is the one in control, that Mingyu can hold him down like this, Jesus Christ this is so good, _so good,_ he can feel precum sliding down his dick and he wants Mingyu inside of him again he wants it so bad— “Fuck! I’m gonna, I’m g-go-gonna—”

Mingyu abruptly pulls away, and Jihoon whines at the loss of feeling, as the electricity slowly fades. He laughs and rubs his rough palm teasingly over the head of Jihoon’s dick, not stopping until Jihoon is jolting and twitching and babbling at the overstimulation, and then pulls away again. “Patience, hyung,” he soothes, reaching for the bottle of lube and drizzling some on his fingers. “I’ll take care of you, remember?”

Jihoon moans when he feels the first finger slide home easily, and then hisses faintly when it’s almost immediately followed by a second. Mingyu scissors him, rubbing against his walls and stretching him open like he has all the time in the world. Jihoon just doesn’t get it—how is he so calm and collected when Jihoon can _clearly_ see the raging erection pressing against his boxers?

“I’m gonna start putting these in, hyung.” Mingyu holds up the anal beads, and Jihoon swallows. There’s four on each string, starting off small and about the size of a quarter before getting increasingly bigger in size, ending with a bead roughly the same width as two of Mingyu’s fingers. Now, that wouldn’t normally be a problem—Jihoon’s taken four their very first time together, although granted he thought he might lose his mind from it—except Mingyu doesn’t just have one string of beads in his hand, he has maybe five. And judging by the evil, delighted grin on his face, he’s planning on using every single one of them.

Just as Jihoon had expected, the first set went in no problem, the feeling strange to get used to but surprisingly pleasant. The second and third set made him _really_ start to feel it. By the time Mingyu’s pressing in the final bead on the fourth set, Jihoon is feeling incredibly full, the first set of beads now nestled very _very_ far up into him. Some of them are right up against his prostate, sending small shocks of pleasure every time he shifts his hips. He whimpers when Mingyu quickly adds in the first two beads of the last set and starts pushing in the third.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Mingyu croons, free hand brushing knuckles comfortingly along the twitching muscles beneath the skin on Jihoon’s stomach. “Come on, two more beads and we’ll be all done. How do you feel, hyung?”

“Full,” Jihoon manages to say, letting out a hissing exhale when Mingyu pushes the third bead in and starts squeezing in the final one. “S-so full.”

“Breathe in deep for me, baby, just one more to go. C’mon.” Mingyu lets out a strangely delightful sound of triumph when he gets the last bead in, lightly patting Jihoon’s ass in approval. “Oh, fuck, you look so good, hyung. Seeing them all in there, ah, _shit,_ you’re so goddamn sexy.”

And before Jihoon can say anything, Mingyu’s flipping the switch on every set of beads so they start to vibrate.

Instantly, Jihoon arches so hard he thinks he might snap in half, a howl scratching its way out of his throat. There’s so many inside of him, and they’re _all_ vibrating against each other, against his prostate, rubbing at his walls, there’s white-hot electricity coursing through his body and he thinks he’s starting to drool and his wrists press hard against the cuffs, rattling against the headboard as he twists his body and tries to do something—anything—to either get away from this sudden onslaught of pleasure or to drown completely in it.

“Hyung, you look so fucking hot,” Mingyu is whispering into his ear, words hot and dripping with want. “So gorgeous, and all for me. No one else has touched you like this, only _me,_ I’m the only one that gets you dripping wet and moaning, aren’t I?” His finger presses against the outermost beads, pushing them in further, and Jihoon’s hips jerk up into the air in an effort to get friction on _anything._ “Aren’t I, hyung?”

“T-the only one!” Jihoon sobs out, hands knocking around the headboard’s rails as his legs kick uselessly against the bed. “The only one— _fuck—_ t-that makes me this way! Only you, only ever you! Oh, god, Mingyu, please— _please_ —this is too much, too—”

“You have safewords, hyung, remember them? Red and yellow?” Jihoon nods frantically, and Mingyu presses a kiss to his cheek, wet and scalding with warmth, as his finger continues to lightly play around with the vibrating beads inside of Jihoon. “Use them if you need to, baby. Otherwise, I’m just gonna keep on going. Because _I’m_ the only one who does this to you, only me, and if I wanna cuff my beautiful hyung to his bed and stuff him until he’s crying and screaming for my dick, then I’m gonna do it, you get me?”

“I _do_ want your dick, jackass!” Jihoon wails, twisting and turning fruitlessly on the mattress. “’I— _aa-aaahh-hh_ —I _need_ your dick inside me, please, fuck, Mingyu fuck me until I pass out—”

Mingyu groans, low and lewd, and presses a firm kiss to Jihoon’s open mouth, drinking in the moans and sobs. “ _Yes,_ ” he whispers, strangled and exultant, “yes, hyung, so good. You’re _such_ a good boy. I’ll reward you, all right? My hyung is the best boy, and I wanna give a great big reward because I’m so fuckin’ _pleased_ with you—”

Jihoon would’ve been peachy keen with his reward being the beads getting pulled out and Mingyu flipping him on all fours and fucking him into oblivion, but that’s not what Mingyu has in mind. Instead, Mingyu sends each set of beads up to its highest setting, and before Jihoon can even have time to start shrieking at the heightened sensations, Mingyu is scrambling down the length of him to press himself in-between Jihoon’s shaking thighs and slide his mouth down onto his dick.

The effect is instantaneous. Jihoon’s hips shoot up into that hot, tight cavern, crying out wantonly as he fucks himself down onto the beads and up into Mingyu’s mouth, too far gone to worry about choking him. Mingyu seems to take it much better than Jihoon can, though, not gagging in the slightest even as Jihoon feels his cock hit the back of his throat, feels Mingyu swallow around him, the tightness so fucking good and so overwhelming and Jihoon is moaning so loudly he can’t hear anything else in the apartment and then he’s coming _hard_.

Jihoon’s pelvis jerks and twitches like he’s getting electrocuted, again and again and again, before he finishes his orgasm and collapses back down onto the bed, tears pinching the corners of his hazy vision. Mingyu swallows his cum dutifully, sucking little hickeys into the trembling, sweaty softness of Jihoon’s inner thighs, taking his time until the vibrating beads are too much and Jihoon is starting to writhe on the bed and beg for them to be turned off. Mingyu pulls them out while they are still buzzing away, the feeling strange and way, way too much, before he turns each one of them off and tosses them carelessly somewhere off the bed.

“Hyung?” Mingyu’s voice manages to make its way to Jihoon’s head again, hovering over him on all fours, pressing soothing kisses to his forehead and jawline. “Hyung, you good? I’m not done with you yet. Hyung?”

“That,” Jihoon slurs, wishing the cuffs were off so he could touch Mingyu’s face, press his fingers to the sweat trickling down his temples, thread them through his messy hair, “that was a real good reward.”

Mingyu laughs, smothering it against Jihoon’s neck. “Wait for the final event, hyung. Think you can take me?”

Jihoon is exhausted, every part of him feeling sensitive and raw, but his dick seems interested anyway and he lets his legs fall open, wider, an invitation. “Please,” he croaks.

Mingyu reaches for the pack of condoms, but Jihoon stops him. “W-wait. Are you—I mean, are you clean?”

“Yeah,” Mingyu says slowly, “I got checked last week.”

“So did I.” Jihoon’s cheeks are already pink with exertion, but they flush even darker. They both got checked before this date. They were both anticipating this. “I mean—I know I’ve only ever been with yuh-you, but I wanted to be on the safe side. If you didn’t wanna use them, then. I mean.”

Mingyu stares at him. “You mean,” he chokes out weakly, “you mean you’d let me come inside you?”

“Yeah?” Jihoon squeaks, self-conscious and wondering if maybe saying this was a bad idea. “Sure?”

There’s a moment of silence, before Mingyu tosses the condoms aside and impatiently strips off his boxers, dick springing up hard and angry and red. Jihoon’s mouth waters at the sight of it, and his legs twitch shut with the sudden ghost feeling of being filled by it before. His ass is somehow incredibly empty.

“You know what, hyung?” Mingyu says with a feverish grin as he lubes up his dick. “Let’s get these off you.” He reaches over to the nightstand for the key and removes Jihoon’s cuffs, running his tongue along the faint pink marks left behind.

Jihoon takes no time at all in scrambling up, ignoring the faint dizziness that follows, and immediately grabs Mingyu by fistfuls of his hair to press their lips together. Mingyu lets out a happy noise at that, groaning into his mouth, ignoring his own dick for now so he can press gross lube-slick hands on the small of Jihoon’s back, unashamedly groping his ass. Jihoon can’t believe he’s even thinking this, but the taste of Mingyu—and he doesn’t mean his blood, he means Mingyu’s lips, the salt on his skin, Mingyu in general—is so fucking intoxicating, so addicting, he almost thinks he could live without ever feeding on him again. He moves to lie back down, hands around the back of Mingyu’s neck to take him along, but Mingyu stops him with another sly look.

“Better idea, hyung.” He moves away and shifts so he’s leaning on the pillows against the headboard. “Come here and sit on my cock. Ride me.”

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Jihoon sighs blissfully, and immediately moves to swing his legs around Mingyu’s waist and hover right over his dick. From here, he pauses, the position strangely vulnerable and bare compared to just passively lying on the bed, and it’s clear that Mingyu is looking at _everything_ right now, eyes hungrily raking over every feature, from Jihoon’s hard pink nipples to the equally pink, equally hard dick starting to rise again.

“Shy, hyung?” Mingyu murmurs, one hand pressing against his waist to help him keep his balance on unsteady legs.

Jihoon nods slowly, embarrassed that he’s _feeling_ embarrassed. The heat of Mingyu’s dick is so, so close to his entrance, tauntingly so, and right now it’s only this moment of sudden self-consciousness overwhelming him and keeping him from sinking right down.

“Feel exposed,” he mumbles.

“You’re beautiful, hyung,” Mingyu says, lining up the head of his dick but waiting. “I hope you know that. I think you’re beautiful.”

Jihoon blushes even harder at that, heart fluttering frantically in his chest. “Nobody’s ever said that about me before.”

Mingyu’s grip on his waist goes a little tighter, eyes so bright that for a moment Jihoon wonders if he has tears in his eyes. But maybe that’s just the universe reflecting off of his brilliant dark irises. “Then I’ll say it as many times as you want to make up for it.”

Jihoon begins to sink down, voicing out a breathless, almost embarrassingly high moan as his walls stretch to accommodate Mingyu’s girth. He tries to let gravity do most of the work, the muscles in his legs trembling and twitching, and by the time he’s fully seated he’s gasping and crying out and his fingers are scrabbling along Mingyu’s chest and stomach.

“Full,” he whispers, doing a full-body shiver that makes Mingyu groan. “O-oh, oh fuck, I feel so _full._ ”

“Is it too much, hyung?” Mingyu whispers, hands resting along the faint curves and bones of Jihoon’s hips but not doing anything yet. The look in his eyes, while hazy with lust and the thinnest threads of self-control, is so soft and _concerned_ that Jihoon thinks his heart might stop beating. “Do you need a moment? Should we stop?”

Jihoon can only shake his head, breaths coming out in stuttered, choked up gasps. “Please,” he says.

Mingyu takes it slow, starting with easing Jihoon’s body into a rhythmic grind that makes the two of them sigh. Jihoon’s legs are still shaking, still unsteady, but he tries his best to lift himself up and drop himself down onto Mingyu’s cock, moaning louder as he does so. Mingyu grunts and moans with each rebound, but he seems content to sit back for a moment, let Jihoon do all the work.

“Go faster, hyung,” Mingyu says, voice teasing, lightly slapping Jihoon’s ass.

“Fuck you,” Jihoon spits out with no real malice, feeling like his veins are lighting themselves on fire throughout his body. “I-I can’t.”

“Why not? No core strength?” He lets his hand, burning hot, rest against one of Jihoon’s trembling thighs. “No muscles in your pretty little legs?”

“I said, fuck _you._ ” Jihoon bounces as fast as he can, but it’s almost laughably weak and measured. He’s so sensitive from his previous orgasm, so intoxicated on Mingyu’s scent and the heavy weight of his cock, that he can’t do anything more. He sinks the upper half of his body down to rest against Mingyu’s body, still trying his best to fuck himself down and up and down again.

“Tired?” Mingyu’s hand is slapping against Jihoon’s thigh now. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that soon his skin is starting to tingle and buzz and each force of impact makes Jihoon flinch and whine louder and louder. “Maybe we should stop?”

“N-no—” he gasps out, “ _please_ —yuh-you feel so good, I _need_ you—”

“You need me? How bad, baby?”

Frustrated and high on the pleasure, Jihoon lets out a weak, wild, pitiful noise that could very well be a wet sob. “Mingyu, _please!”_

Mingyu instantly reacts, feet moving up to plant themselves firmly against the mattress, hands moving to grip Jihoon’s hips, holding him in place. Not having to exert his aching muscles is a delight, but Jihoon is still desperate to move, grinding uselessly in place as more teary-sounding cries spill from his throat.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Mingyu croons, although he doesn’t sound sorry at all—instead, he sounds happier than ever before. “I made you cry. Hyung, I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you, yeah? Let me take over? Make you come untouched all over me while I finish in your perky, cute ass?”

Jihoon hiccups and nods frantically, and just like that Mingyu snaps his hips up and makes him scream. His thrusts are tight and controlled, calves and thighs and core muscles working magnificently, as he keeps Jihoon firmly in one spot and relentlessly pistons upwards, hard enough for Jihoon’s eyes to roll back into his head as Mingyu’s dick drags against places he never thought would get touched before.

“Gyu— _Mingyu_ —f-fuck, _uungh,_ please, Mingyu, I-I—” his words dissolve into a stream of babbles and broken moans as Mingyu adjusts his position, tilting Jihoon back slightly, and his dick rams straight into his prostate, sending jolts of electricity and white-hot painful pleasure coursing through Jihoon’s body until his fingers and toes are curling and precum drips like a leaky faucet along Mingyu’s chiseled abdomen.

“You about to come, baby?” Mingyu grunts, sweat trickling down his forehead as he throws his head back in pleasure. “Just wait, okay? Wait for me to fill you all up.”

Jihoon doesn’t think he _can_ wait, not with the way Mingyu’s hitting his prostate on every push in, but he clenches his ass and cries out to the night and drowns in the overwhelming sensations of everything against his skin and inside of him, until with a long moan and a stifled entreaty of his name, Mingyu forces him down onto his cock and comes.

Jihoon wails at how deep Mingyu’s dick goes, and then shudders as the sensation of something wet and hot fills him up inside, running down his walls and tickling his prostate, before he clenches hard, back arching, and comes completely untouched. Mingyu is panting and probably sensitive after his orgasm, but he continues thrusting upwards to help Jihoon through it, running hands along his nipples and soft stomach, as Jihoon lets out what feels like an endless stream of cum that splatters along Mingyu’s chest and abs—some even shooting far enough to hit his chin.

They don’t move or speak for a moment, trying to catch their breath, before Jihoon eventually struggles to lift himself up—hissing weakly as Mingyu’s dick leaves him, cum trickling down the insides of his thighs, and then collapses beside Mingyu, boneless and exhausted.

Mingyu turns to face him, pressing in close and leaving affectionate, sloppy kisses along Jihoon’s feverish neck and collarbones. “So good, hyung,” he whispers, “you were so good. I’m so proud of you. My perfect, dirty little hyung.”

Jihoon shivers as much from Mingyu’s words as from the tongue laving over his skin. “I didn’t nearly kill you this time,” he says.

“You didn’t.”

It’s a little silly how happy that makes Jihoon, how relieved he is. It’s as if some part of him deep down had been terrified he’d lose control, he’d hurt Mingyu again. “I didn’t feed from you either, though.”

“Shit, that’s right.” Mingyu laughs and playfully squeezes Jihoon’s ass, making him groan in complaint. “I was so distracted by this perfect thing that I totally forgot. Wanna bite me now? I might get horny again, though, so be prepared.”

“No thanks, ’m too tired.” Jihoon yawns into his face to prove it. There’s a bit of an ache inside of him, and the drying cum from his ass certainly feels a little gross, but there’s a happy post-orgasm buzz in his limbs and the heat radiating off of Mingyu’s skin is like sinking into a warm bath. He can feel his eyelids drooping, getting harder and harder to stay open.

“Oh no you don’t, hyung.” Mingyu pats his cheek, shifting off the bed. “You have to clean yourself up, like, immediately. Trust me, cleaning out cum from your ass once it’s already all dried up is the absolute worst. Come on.”

“I can’t,” Jihoon grumbles, letting himself take a moment to appreciate Mingyu’s backside as he stands up proper. Usually when he sees him naked, he’s too horny to care or Mingyu’s choking on his own blood, so it’s nice to be able to just admire it for a second.

“Why not?”

“Because someone just gave me the best dicking of my life and I physically can’t move right now.”

Mingyu grins down at him, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Shall I carry you?”

“If you can.”

Mingyu can, very easily. He scoops Jihoon up like he weighs nothing and hauls him bridal-style towards the bathroom, setting him down on the cool tiles of the shower floor as he tests out the temperature of the water.

Jihoon’s legs are still really shaky, but he gets the overwhelmingly satisfying feeling of Mingyu helping him stand up, being able to lean into the human body towering over him as he struggles to clean out the inside of his ass. Mingyu watches him for a moment, seemingly transfixed, until his hair is dark and wet and hanging in his eyes and Jihoon is painfully entranced by the little streams of water trickling down his tanned chest.

“Let me help you, hyung,” he says, and gently swats Jihoon’s hand away from its awkward motions and reaches over to replace it with his own. Jihoon bites his lip to hold back a whimper as Mingyu’s much thicker finger presses in deep to scoop out cum. His muscles are still loose, so it makes it almost no problem at all to add a second finger without lube.

Jihoon closes his eyes and presses himself even closer to Mingyu, just lets himself go lax under the hot shower and Mingyu’s equally-hot body. Are all humans this warm, all the time? Or is Mingyu just a portable heating system disguised as a gorgeous man? He’s not really sure, but he loves it. He just wants to melt, with the water helping to loosen the muscles in his back, and Mingyu’s thumb rubbing soothing circles into his hip, and the way his two fingers are twisting inside of him that feels so fucking good he can’t help but let out a soft moan—

He realizes, in an instant, that Mingyu is massaging his prostate in a way that, while relaxing and feels very _very_ fucking good, doesn’t exactly move anything out of him, and that he is currently half-hard and rubbing up against Mingyu’s thigh.

“You tricked me,” he says, not particularly angry. Maybe a little exasperated. Vampiric maturation aside, he’s physically twenty-seven years old and is starting to seriously feel his age, and Mingyu’s libido is already trying to kill him one date in.

“I finished cleaning you up and it felt too good in there to stop. Why don’t you bite me, hyung?” Mingyu continues prodding and stroking the gland that makes Jihoon shiver and moan. “A nice bedtime snack.”

“I don’t—” _I don’t want to hurt you,_ is what he wants to say, and Mingyu apparently understands, because he nods and smiles at Jihoon in a way that steals all the air out of his lungs and makes his heart ache. Mingyu only stretches his neck, revealing a nice long patch of skin for Jihoon to bite down on.

Well … shit, why not.

Without panicking or rushing, Jihoon chooses a nice spot (far, _far_ away from any major arteries or veins) and bites down. Instantly, Mingyu shudders and lets out a hoarse moan, hips jerking and dick rising to attention until it’s thrusting very insistently against Jihoon’s stomach. The fingers in Jihoon’s overstimulated ass spasm and curl hard, making Jihoon jolt and whine as blood begins to fill his mouth, sweet and delicious.

“Fuck— _hyung_ —” Mingyu gasps, removing his fingers so he can get a firm grip on Jihoon and hoist him up, pressing him against the shower wall so their dicks align and he can grind into him in earnest. Jihoon’s grateful for the lift, considering he’s so shaky he might just collapse on the spot, but he’s already come twice— _hard_ —and he thinks he might actually die if Mingyu keeps this up. Still, he’s already halfway there and Mingyu’s blood tastes so fucking good. He’s careful this time though, he’s not greedy—once he’s got a good mouthful or two, he quickly removes his fangs and laps at the wound, watching it swell shut with a sigh of relief as Mingyu bucks against him, the two of them frotting against each other like their lives depend on it.

“You really, _ah,_ are trying to k-kill me,” Jihoon chokes out as he nears another orgasm, this one promising to be almost painful in its intensity.

“Of course,” Mingyu huffs out a small laugh, crowding Jihoon up the wall until they’re chest-to-chest, skin-on-skin, until there’s nothing but the sensation of nipples dragging along wet bodies and their dicks receiving blessed friction from each other. “I _guh­_ —got to blow your mind out. Fuck you over and over and over again until you don’t wanna feed off of any other human but me. It’s all p-part of my plan, hyung, I’m a criminal mastermind.”

The need to come is getting almost unbearable. “W-why?” Jihoon stutters out, as Mingyu leans in close to kiss him, feverishly, painfully intimate and soft.

“Because,” Mingyu says with a faint smile, eyes dark and intense and Jihoon thinks he’s going to drown in them, “I don’t like to share.”

Jihoon is surprised, the answer confusing yet very straightforward and yet everything and nothing at all, but Mingyu kisses him again and grinds up even harder, harder until the shower tiles scratch at Jihoon’s back, until he’s spiralling out of control and out of Earth’s orbit to collide into some faraway, distant planet, sparks dancing in his eyes and flashing inside of his brain, and then he’s floating in darkness.

 

He wakes up to the sensation of someone very softly pressing kisses, light as butterfly wings, against his shoulder blades. Thin, thin rays of early morning sunlight manage to peek out through the cracks between the closed blinds. Even in this faint light he can see rather clearly; a vampire thing, he supposes. Enhanced senses. He wishes he could have the power to lift a car or something, instead.

He tries not to move, but Mingyu must have sensed him stirring and laughs softly, helping him turn around so they can face each other. Mingyu looks fucking _angelic_ in the morning, with sleepy eyes and a dopey grin and messy sexed-up hair mixed with outrageously cute bedhead. Jihoon thinks his heart just skipped a beat. He’s so beautiful it’s almost impossible to believe he’s even here, in Jihoon’s bed.

“Morning,” Mingyu says, voice a little throaty from sleep, and Jihoon nearly wants to cry. Then he says, “Want a handjob?”

“Do you ever fucking quit?” Jihoon says in disbelief. Every bone in his body either aches or feels rubbery and limp. He thinks even just blowing air on his dick right now might make him scream.

“Just saying.” Mingyu yawns. “If you want one, I can, like. Do it.”

“I’m _fine,_ thank you. What even happened last night?”

Mingyu snorts and grins cheekily at him. “What happened was you passing the fuck out in the shower after coming. So I cleaned us both up and put you to bed.”

“Oh. Thanks, I guess. Um.” Jihoon’s brain is too zoned out to find anything else to say, but Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind. He shifts closer so he can carefully slot their lips together, their kisses slow and unhurried, calm without the fever of sex on their minds. It’s so lazy and gentle that Jihoon can feel himself melting, drowning under the sweetness of it. Mingyu’s kissing him the way Jeonghan kisses Minghao when he thinks Jihoon isn’t looking.

“You were going to tell me something,” Jihoon vaguely recalls once they pull away for air. “At dinner.”

“Mmm, what was it?”

“I can’t remember. But it was something for when we wake up.”

Mingyu smiles, cheerful and sleepy. Jihoon wishes he could see Mingyu like this every morning. “I’ll tell you the next time we do this.”

 _What makes you think there’s gonna be a next time,_ is the immediate cynical sentence that Jihoon feels like spouting, but the sight of Mingyu pressing a careful kiss to one bare shoulder, his ridiculous messy bed hair, makes him falter and Jihoon knows he’s screwed. Of course there’s going to be a next time. Of course. He’s too weak of a man to do anything else.

So instead, he hums softly and says, “Okay.”

“Good.” Mingyu carefully kisses a red hickey at the base of Jihoon’s neck, almost like he’s apologizing for leaving it there. “You sure you don’t want a handjob? Maybe feed off me again?”

“I’m not going to hunt any other humans.” The answer to an unspoken question comes out of Jihoon’s mouth before he even realizes it. “I mean—I—you’re all right. Just you.”

Mingyu stares at him for a long moment, not saying anything. He’s still sleepy, but his eyes are surprisingly sharp as they look deeply into Jihoon’s own eyes, as if trying to make out if there’s a lie in there. Eventually he smiles, so soft and gentle and perfect and Jihoon isn’t sure if he really deserves this, and the two of them fall back asleep in each other’s arms.

 

One date turns into two, then three, then four, until it seems like two or three nights a week, Mingyu is driving Jihoon out to do stuff like rollerblading, or ice cream, or ferris wheel rides, and Jihoon has seen more of the world than he’s had probably in his entire life, human years included.

And of course, there’s sex. Lots of it. Jihoon can barely count how many times Mingyu’s bent him over something—the bed, or the couch, or the dining table, or on one particularly memorable night up against the front door amongst their shoes because they couldn’t wait long enough to get to the bedroom. They’re starting to learn each other’s bodies by heart, by memory; Mingyu knows exactly what to say or where to touch to get Jihoon red and gasping in under a minute, and Jihoon has figured out all the little things that can get Mingyu horny and raring to go (which frankly, doesn’t really take all that much).

The funny thing is, sometimes their sex doesn’t involve Jihoon feeding off of him. Sometimes he forgets, too blissed out from his (usually multiple) orgasms to remember.

And sometimes he not only doesn’t feed on Mingyu, but the two of them don’t even fuck at all. Sometimes, after a long and socially-exhausting date night, Jihoon finds himself cuddling on the couch with him and watching TV, silent except for an occasional whispered conversation. When Mingyu spoons him to sleep afterwards Jihoon feels strange and domestic and affectionate, and it scares him a bit, because that means they’re developing feelings beyond that of a hunter and his prey.

Jeonghan loves Mingyu, of course, and while Minghao and Mingyu tend to be rather snarky at each other they also get along very well. The first time they met, Jihoon had been tense and anxious and worried about so many things he doesn’t really understand, and despite feeling relieved that Jeonghan and Minghao both adored Mingyu, he also felt disappointed. Perhaps he still had reservations about this thing, and he had hoped that if his closest friends were to hate Mingyu, Jihoon would have a more reasonable excuse for being so scared about what the two of them are becoming.

But really, who knows.

“They’re together, aren’t they?” Mingyu gasps against the side of Jihoon’s throat as they tumble into bed. They’re in Mingyu’s place this time, and the entire room smells like him. Jihoon’s head is spinning from the force of it, or maybe from the force of Mingyu’s rough hands sliding insistently up beneath his shirt.

“Who?” Jihoon manages to say, head ridiculously empty as Mingyu nuzzles against the side of his jaw, tongue and teeth and lips working at the skin there and making him shiver. “Y-yeah, they are.”

“When did Minghao find out about Jeonghan being a vamp?”

“A co-couple dates in.” Mingyu’s fingers play at the zipper on his jeans, digging in just enough to make Jihoon’s cock twitch, and he tosses his head back and groans. “God, Mingyu, can you please _not_ talk about them while we’re doing this?”

Mingyu smothers his laughter and presses an amused, apologetic kiss to Jihoon’s collarbone, and then puts all his focus into getting Jihoon’s pants off and his hands on him as soon as possible.

He doesn’t talk about their friends’ relationship again, until one night when everyone gathered to have dinner in Jihoon’s apartment, and the others have already said their goodbyes and left. Despite being too beautiful, too bright and vivid and full of life to be hanging around in this dark, messy dump, Mingyu looks right at home here, washing dishes and humming something slightly off-key. He looks like he belongs in this cramped little kitchen, and that sensation of him belonging anywhere within Jihoon’s cursed vicinity is, again, more than a little frightening to experience.

“So, Minghao and Jeonghan,” Mingyu says abruptly. “What’s up with that?”

Jihoon looks up from the email consultation he’s been trying to forward to one of the companies he works for. “What do you mean?”

“Like, Minghao is human but … I don’t know, they have a really intense relationship. Like it’s more than dating. Does it work out? Between vampires and humans?” He sounds more curious than he really should be.

Jihoon shrugs. “I’m the last person you should ask about that. I mean, plenty of vamps date humans, whether those humans know about the vampirism or not. In general, the only difficult part is the aging thing. Since vamps age so much slower than humans, it gets into a whole ‘well, I’m basically going to stay the same age physically while my partner grows old and dies’. But Minghao and Jeonghan won’t have to deal with that, they’re in a blood bond.”

“Blood bond?” Mingyu looks utterly intrigued. “Ooh, what’s that?”

“It’s like a, I don’t know, a pact. Protection. A promise.” Jihoon licks his lips. “If used for a romantic relationship, it’s basically a vampiric version of an engagement.”

“What is it, though?”

This was something Jeonghan had taught him, not his Host. “Basically, it’s kind of like imprinting on a human. A vampire gives them a little bit of their own blood, and it sends this sort of, I dunno, pheromones or scent or some shit that makes it so no other vampires want to feed off of that human. Plenty of vamps do it, although it’s not always romantic.” Jihoon remembers hearing about a high-profile vampire whose trusted human secretary had to accompany him to various all-vamp events, so as an added precaution he formed a blood bond with her so she wouldn’t be bothered by any of the guests. There are even stories of Turned vamps forming blood bonds with human family members, just to make sure that they will always be safe. “When it comes to relationships, it allows the human to continue aging as normal, get their shit together, break the news to their family or whatever they wanna do. And when the time is right, they’ll get the Bite—the official one—and Turn into a vampire too.”

“Is that what Minghao wants?” Mingyu’s eyes are wide and starry, like this is all some sort of fairy tale Jihoon’s constructing for him. “He’s waiting to be Turned into a vampire?”

“Yep. He’s got a couple more years left to go—he’s still pretty young, and he wants to be at least twenty-six before he Turns so he can be closer in age to Jeonghan.”

“That’s really cool.” Mingyu is silent for a moment, strangely quiet and lost in thought. “Do you think you’ll give me the Bite one day?”

Jihoon nearly chokes his lungs out. The hand currently resting on his computer keyboard spasms, mashing a few keys into gibberish in his email, but he’s too distracted to correct it. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mingyu frowns and looks away, and Jihoon groans once he realizes he hurt his feelings. “Mingyu, listen to me.”

He doesn’t turn his head, so Jihoon stands up and pads over to him, places his hands on either side of Mingyu’s jaw and forcibly does it himself, looking right into his eyes.

“I can’t just Turn you into a vampire for no reason, Mingyu. You have to think long and hard about this, it’s a permanent decision. You won’t be able to do a lot of things with your life or be around too many humans once you stop aging, and you’ll be forced to see your entire family grow old and die without you.” His voice wavers. “Trust me, this isn’t easy.”

“But I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not with hyung,” Mingyu whispers.

Jihoon stares long and hard at him, suddenly unable to make sense of the world, can’t process anything around him except for Mingyu and just how gorgeous he looks. His mouth goes dry. He steps away.

“You only say that because you like being bitten,” he whispers, a bit harsher than he meant to. He knows it’s not true—knows by now that this is not some sort of BDSM vamp fetishist bite-kink relationship, knows that more than he’s willing to admit—but in this moment it’s the only argument he has, the only excuse to explain why fear is building up in the back of his throat.

“Wrong answer, hyung. I like being bitten by _you._ ”

When Jihoon doesn’t answer, only stares at him with hard eyes growing brighter with welling tears, Mingyu chokes out a small laugh and says, “That’s the secret, hyung. That’s what I’ve meant to tell you, all this time. I was hoping by now that you’d get it on your own, but, well. I like _you,_ hyung. Not the sex, or the bites. I like you, and I like being with you, and the only reason why I like getting bitten half so much is because I’m being bitten by you.”

“You’re lying.” Jihoon’s voice is shaking, he realizes, breaking apart under the pressure of his own words. “You’re _lying._ This is—this is just sex. Blood and sex. You like the bite and the sex that comes with it, and that’s why we’re doing this.”

Mingyu’s eyebrows furrow. He looks like he wants to fight back, just as fiercely as Jihoon is, but his hands are still elbow-deep in soapy water and he can’t move without making a mess. “Why do you think I’m not telling the truth?”

“Because—because how _could_ you be? Why else would you like me so much? When you’re so, so—and I’m so—” Jihoon feels a lump make its way up his throat, choking him. “I was a _loser_ when I was human, Mingyu. I was some introverted loner kid who never had friends, never went on dates, I shut myself up in my room and found jobs that didn’t make me go out to some office building and talk to people in person. A-and it was the same thing when I became a vampire, too! The exact same thing! I was so fucking undesirable, so useless, I couldn’t hunt down a _single_ human before you came along, and—and—and people like me don’t end up with people like you!”

“And what are people like me, hyung?” Mingyu finally pulls his hands out of the water, wiping them down with a nearby dish towel, before turning on Jihoon with a healthy glower furrowing his brow and turning down the corners of his mouth. “Go on, what are people like me?”

“People who are tall, a-and handsome. People who go out to have fun, people who can make friends easily, people who _matter._ ” It’s impossible for him to shut up anymore; Jihoon can feel the torrent of all his fears and insecurities rushing out, threatening to drown him. “I’ve never mattered. I was never someone who mattered. Not as a human, not as a vampire. I’m going to live out the next couple of centuries alone and miserable, living off of blood bags and meager connections with people like Jeonghan and Minghao, never able to have a proper life or do anything to the fullest, and I’m not going to let _you_ stay with me and get stuck doing the same thing.”

Mingyu stares down at him, glower gone, eyes wide and strangely heartbroken as he takes in Jihoon’s words. “Hyung,” he starts to say, reaching out for him, but Jihoon steps away, rubbing furiously at his eyes before the tears start to overflow.

“You’re making a huge mistake,” he says fiercely, “throwing away your life for someone like me. And unless I’m just taking your blood, I will _never_ give you the Bite, you understand? _Never._ So don’t fucking ask me ever again.”

There’s a long, long period of stillness between them. Mingyu’s face is impassive, unreadable, closed off. Eventually, and without another word, he walks out of the kitchen. Jihoon hears him stumble a bit as he shoves his feet into his battered sneakers, hears him open the door, and hears him close it with a resolute thud.

And Jihoon is standing there alone, as the sun sets a dull blue with pink-streaked clouds outside his window, breaking down into silent tears as he realizes he’ll never love someone as much as he loves Kim Mingyu.

 

“I thought I told you not to go breaking the poor boy’s heart, Jihoon,” Jeonghan says disapprovingly. “I’m pretty sure I made myself clear.”

Jihoon chooses not to answer. He’s got his eyes firmly fixed on his computer screen and pretending to work, but it’s hard to focus. Has been hard to focus for the past couple of days. He keeps getting distracted, keeps moving his eyes over towards the couches and half-expecting to see Mingyu lounging on them and waiting for Jihoon to finish working. He hears the plumbing in the apartment rumble for a moment and thinks Mingyu’s using the shower again, or helping him wash dishes. He hears any sort of noise in the direction of the front door and jumps in his seat, head filled with half-wild thoughts that Mingyu has come back to him, he’s come back and Jihoon can fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

But it’s been five days since their fight, and Mingyu hasn’t come back. Jihoon’s phone, which used to buzz constantly with his insistent, cheery texts, remains silent like it always used to before Mingyu became a part of his life.

“You like him,” Jeonghan says, and his voice is soft but accusing. “I know you did, you idiot, you were crazy about him.”

“So what?” Jihoon finally mumbles.

“So, you hurt his feelings and drive him away and you’re not even going to apologize? Give him a call, show up at his doorstep? Nothing?”

He wants to. God, he wants to. Jihoon knew his feelings were strong, stronger than he anticipated or even wanted, and he knows that he’d do anything at this point to get Mingyu back. _Anything._ But he also knows that for the sake of Mingyu’s future, his happiness, Jihoon needs to let him go.

“Do you think you’re going to ruin his life?” Jeonghan asks, flatly. He knows Jihoon all too well. “Is that what this is about? You think being with him will destroy him? Corrupt him into being a vamp? Is that what you think I’m doing to Minghao, too, or is this somehow ‘different’?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer him for a long moment, but eventually, he takes a sip of blood from the wine glass next to him. It’s his favourite, Type O, heated up to perfection, but it feels cold and lifeless compared to Mingyu’s blood, that feeling of satisfaction when the heat of it coats his tongue.

“What did your parents say when you told them you were a vampire?” he asks.

Jeonghan stares at him blankly. As close as they are, neither of them have ever really gotten into talking about their human lives before the Bite. It’s something private, really, something so intensely private and personal that it never felt like a good time to bring it up. It’s another lifetime ago, a lifetime that, for vamps, almost always never ends happily.

“After all the usual ‘you must be fucking kidding me’ and the ‘oh my god you’re serious you’re not fucking kidding me’?” Jeonghan shrugs. “Told me they loved me and supported me, then helped me pack my bags and made me promise to never go out and look for them again. Just couldn’t shake all the vamp fairy tales out of their heads, thought I might lose it one day and hurt them. Didn’t blame them. Sometimes I email my sister. She’s getting married next spring. I promised to send her something nice. Why? What about you?”

Jihoon looks at his computer screen for a couple more seconds before switching off the monitor. He wasn’t paying attention, anyhow.

“They said nothing,” he says quietly. “And you wanna know why? Because I never told them. This is the same apartment I’ve lived in since I moved out for college. My cell phone number is the same. My email is the same. One day, I was texting and phoning them twice a week to let them know how I was doing, and then I never talked to them again. Or, more accurately, they never talked to me again. What do you think that tells you?”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, just stands there with his sharp eyes fixated on Jihoon’s empty, soulless gaze as he swirls the blood around in his glass.

“It tells you that they never cared. About me. That even when I was human, they didn’t give a shit about me. It’s been forty-odd years since I’ve become a vampire—shit, they must be in their seventies, eighties by now—and not once have they ever decided to call me and find out what happened to me.” His voice wobbles slightly, but he hides it by taking another sip of blood. “I was their only child, Jeonghan-hyung. Their only son. And they didn’t care.”

“So you had shitty parents,” Jeonghan mutters. “So what? What does that have to do with Mingyu?”

“Everything. It tells me that the painful process of leaving your old life to enter this one is something I don’t want Mingyu to have to go through. It tells me that being abandoned by your own fucking family is something Mingyu should never have to experience. It tells me that the life he may have wanted for himself, the future and the degree he’s working towards, is something I shouldn’t be taking away from him. And it tells me that despite what he may feel for me, or what I feel for him, I would be the biggest piece of shit on this planet if I let him waste away with someone like me.”

There’s a few long seconds of silence, which is broken only when Jeonghan lets out a heavy sigh.

“Jesus Christ, Jihoon,” he says, “you really think that little of yourself?”

“You’re not like me, hyung,” Jihoon says sullenly. “You can still have a life out there. Minghao won’t lose that much when he Turns. But me? I’ll stay in this stupid apartment for the rest of my vampiric life, drinking shitty blood out of wine glasses, only going out when you guys convince me. Because that’s just who I am. That’s what I’m like. So, if you see Mingyu on the street or something, say a few words, be good to him, but don’t expect me to make the same mistake of letting him into my life again and making me pretend I could be anything else.”

And with that, he drains his glass and fills it up with alcohol instead.

 

Exactly fourteen days since the fight, Jihoon wakes up in the middle of the night to a sharp, steady knocking against his front door.

He curses under his breath, padding barefoot down the hall. His sleep schedule has been shit recently, and he desperately needs this rest. If it’s Jeonghan coming by again just to “check up on him”, he’s going to flip his shit—despite what Jeonghan may think, he’s miserable, not suicidal, he doesn’t need an intervention every other fucking day—

He opens the door and instead comes face to face with Mingyu.

“Hi,” Mingyu says, smile bright but expression apprehensive. Jihoon only stares at him, groggy and tired and bewildered and also feeling extraordinarily embarrassed at the stupid shirt and pants he’s wearing as pyjamas. “Can I come in?”

Jihoon’s first thought is to shut the door and lock it and hope Mingyu gets the picture, but in his moment of half-asleep shock, he opens the door wider and shuffles aside.

Mingyu looks effortlessly handsome, even with his hair only half-brushed and his clothes mismatched as though he had just hastily thrown on whatever he saw before heading out. He’s wearing a plaid flannel sweater over a plaid shirt, the colours and patterns garish and ugly next to each other, and as he kicks off his sneakers Jihoon can see he’s wearing two different socks.

“You were sleeping,” Mingyu notes uselessly. “Sorry for coming so late.”

Jihoon eyes the closest clock on the wall and grimaces when he realizes it’s one in the morning. “Mingyu, I’m really tired,” he starts to say weakly, but Mingyu cuts him off with far more energy than one should have at this hour.

“Then you don’t have to say anything. Nothing at all. Just—sit and listen, yeah?” Mingyu pushes him into the couch, Jihoon’s rubbery limbs collapsing effortlessly, and then Mingyu is kneeling onto the ground in front of him, eerily reminiscent to that moment after their disastrous first night together. “Do you think this was enough time?”

Jihoon blinks bleary-eyed at him. “Time for what?”

“For—for giving you space.” Mingyu is babbling now, eyes wide. He’s _nervous,_ Jihoon thinks with surprise, underneath that built-in confidence, he’s nervous and scared and maybe a little bit desperate. “I thought two weeks would be enough time for you to, you know, think about stuff, make some decisions, cool off a bit. Was two weeks enough?”

“You were just _giving me space?”_ Jihoon half-squeaks. “I thought—I thought you left me! I mean, I thought you were going for good.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Mingyu demands, sounding affronted. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, why would I wanna walk away from that?”

Jihoon flinches. Mingyu’s words are full to bursting with affection, with _love_ , how is it that he never heard it so clearly before? It’s almost painful for him to say, “Mingyu, we _talked_ about this, I told you that you’d—”

“Regret it for the rest of my life if I stayed with you? If I became a vamp with you?” Mingyu lets out a short, slightly bitter laugh, and his hands reach up to rest on Jihoon’s knees, like a puppy waiting for treats. “Get off your high horse, hyung. Who says you can decide what I want or don’t want, what’s good for me or not good? I’m a grown-ass man. I’ve been doing some thinking as well these past two weeks, and I’ve decided that I don’t care what you think about yourself, if you think you’re not good enough or whatever.”

“Mingyu,” Jihoon threatens, but Mingyu bullheadedly ignores him.

“I _don’t care._ You can’t make me. I don’t care if you think you’re some sort of loser, because that’s not what I think of you. I think you’re amazing, and smart, and fucking hot, and if I want to Turn into a vampire too so I can be with hyung, you really can’t stop me. If you don’t wanna do that blood bond whatever with me, then I can get Jeonghan-hyung to give me the Bite. Or someone else. Any other vampire I can find. Putting their mouth on me, tasting my blood, Turning me. Would you rather I do that instead, hyung?”

Jihoon growls low in the back of his throat, a warning note as something vicious and mindless and animalistic in nature flashes red and furious in his brain. He can’t _believe_ Mingyu is pulling this card on him, forcing his possessiveness, his jealousy, his natural instincts. Now all he can think of is Mingyu blindly, guilelessly wandering into another vampire’s embrace, tilting that perfect neck back to let some other vampire put their filthy fangs into his throat, some other vampire’s blood filling Mingyu’s veins and Turning him, binding him in some twisted way to them, and he’d rather _die_ before he lets that happen.

“Yeah, see?” Mingyu says, triumphant and breathless. “You don’t like that any more than I do. I’m _yours,_ hyung, I’m yours to do with as you see fit. You wanna act like you’re ruining my life or whatever, fine, but you can’t convince me from doing what I wanna do. I’m not being stupid, or reckless, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and this is what I’ve chosen. And if there’s any vamp I want to give me the Bite, it’s always gonna be you.”

It’s too fucking early—or late— _whatever—_ for this to be happening. Jihoon rubs furiously at his eyes, mostly to try and wipe away the hot tears starting to grow in the corners of them, try to hide the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions trying to cram their way into his chest, and staggers up off the couch. Mingyu sidles out of the way, apprehensive and terrified, chewing holes into his bottom lip as he waits for a response.

“Let’s just—let’s go to bed,” Jihoon mumbles, and the way Mingyu’s entire face lights up as he scrambles to his feet, smothering Jihoon in his strong arms, is almost enough for Jihoon’s entire heart to break and get sewn back together and break all over again.

Mingyu is eager and handsy as the two of them stumble back to Jihoon’s bedroom, but he must have noticed that Jihoon is too exhausted to do anything more than cuddle, because he keeps his wandering caresses and frantic kisses as innocent as possible as Jihoon throws the blanket over them.

“I missed you so much, hyung,” he whispers into the darkness. He trembles on the last word, like he might want to cry. “I had that speech all planned out, but I—wasn’t sure you’d take me back.”

Jihoon can see him perfectly well, and it’s a glorious sight to behold, the way his eyes shine in the dark. For the first time, he allows himself to wonder what it might be like for Mingyu to have the same vampiric eyesight, wonders if Mingyu might one day look at him in the vulnerable pitch-blackness of the night and feel the same way.

“I missed you too,” he whispers. Images of Mingyu letting other vampires bite him are still filling his mind, souring the happiness blossoming in his chest, and he knows what he has to do. “Don’t move a muscle.”

Mingyu obediently freezes in place, as Jihoon slowly inches his face towards his neck. He nuzzles against Mingyu’s jawline, taking a moment to inhale the perfect scent of him, nose trailing a careful line towards where Jihoon can hear the blood rushing loudest.

Mingyu lets out a sharp inhale and a brief moan when Jihoon’s fangs pierce his skin, and his hands around Jihoon’s waist tighten for a moment in anticipation for the rush of pleasure, the feeling of Jihoon siphoning blood out of his body.

But instead, Jihoon pulls away for a moment, and as the blood from the wound on Mingyu’s neck begins to bead out and start trickling down his skin, Jihoon bites at the skin of his own wrist, sucks in a small mouthful of his own blood, and transfers it to the open wound.

Mingyu shudders at the feeling. It’s not that insane burst of pleasure that he’s come to know and enjoy; instead, there’s a pleasant, overpowering buzz, one that engulfs him and spreads out down to his fingers and toes. Jihoon’s never done this before, but he’s almost methodical about it, precise in his movements. He takes great care in slowly feeding Mingyu his blood and closing the wound properly, licking away the droplets of blood that had escaped. His own bite wound on his wrist has already closed, leaving behind nothing but a faint pinkish smear on his skin.

“Do you feel it?” he whispers into the darkness when he’s done. With every single heartbeat in that vivid, brilliantly warm human body, he feels his own pulse in response. A connection. A bond.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says in a hushed, awed voice.

“Good.” Jihoon presses a sweet, gentle kiss to Mingyu’s lips, and Mingyu tastes something coppery and warm on his tongue—his own blood, maybe, or Jihoon’s, or a mixture of both. It’s a little possessive and a little gross and a little too deep, and it’s like the past two weeks never happened. “That means you’re mine.”

 

When Jeonghan barges into Jihoon’s apartment to see them the next day, his smile slides off of his face and he takes a deep lungful of air. “Oh, _gross._ What have you two done.”

“This is what I have to deal with every time I hang out with you and Minghao!” Jihoon snaps, defensive. “Fuck all the way off, Jeonghan-hyung.”

“What?” Minghao trails in after his boyfriend, unlacing his shoes. “I don’t smell anything.”

“You won’t be able to, babe, it’s pheromones. Vampire pheromones.” Jeonghan gives Jihoon an insufferable, all-knowing grin that Jihoon brushes off by making an offensive gesture at him. “Looks like _someone_ decided to step up to the plate.”

“You two are blood-bound?” Minghao beams and gives Mingyu a playful shove. “Congratulations! Have you decided on a date yet?”

“Not yet,” Mingyu says, uncharacteristically shy, and shoots Jihoon a look. “It’s all happened so fast. I’m kind of hoping it’ll be next year, in spring?”

“For _fuck’s_ sakes, you two,” Jihoon snaps, cheeks and ears and neck flushing an embarrassed, irritated pink, “stop talking about it like it’s a _wedding.”_

“You’re the one who described it to me as a vampire engagement,” Mingyu points out.

“Terrible choice of words, I regret it now.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes at Jihoon and chooses to swing an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders instead—giving a very wide berth to his general neck area, which Jihoon finds immensely gratifying. Nice to know the blood bond is doing its work. “Ignore him, Gyu, he was a total mess when you weren’t around. The most depressing little shit you’ve ever seen. It’s good of you to take him back.”

“Shut _up,_ Jeonghan, holy Christ,” Jihoon complains, but he’s not as angry as he should’ve been when he sees Mingyu’s cheeks flush and he giggles in response, like hearing about how much his disappearance had affected Jihoon makes him happy beyond belief.

With both the blood bond and two whole weeks of going without sex simmering between them, Jihoon can feel the tension rising in the air, can feel it when Mingyu sits next to him on the couch and tangles their fingers together. As nice as it is having Jeonghan and Minghao to celebrate with them, Jihoon quickly grows impatient for them to leave so he and Mingyu can settle some long-awaited business. As per Jeonghan’s style, however, he remains blissfully unaware of Jihoon’s increasingly desperate attempts to get him out of the house early, until eventually Minghao spares him some pity and whispers something in Jeonghan’s ear that makes him immediately jump off the couch and grab his shoes.

“I’ll see you two later,” Jeonghan sing-songs, hand firmly placed around Minghao’s bony waist and gluing him to his side. “Try not to do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That’s not a very long list,” Minghao calls out, a wicked grin on his face, and they shut the door behind them.

“Finally,” Jihoon mutters, the ringing silence of the door closing almost as nerve-wracking as it is a relief.

Mingyu laughs low in Jihoon’s ear, fingers tracing ticklish little symbols into Jihoon’s palm. “Wanted them to go?”

“For the last hour and a half, yeah. Why, you wanted them to stay?”

Mingyu laughs again, even as Jihoon gives up on being coy, impatiently crawls halfway onto Mingyu’s lap, and tries to mold their lips together. “I’m not really into people watching,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes Jihoon’s heart do funny backflips.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says dryly, and reaches up to fist at the collar of Mingyu’s shirt, wondering how long it’ll take for him to get all those buttons undone.

As it turns out, not that long, because before he knows it he’s half-dragging Mingyu down the hall and into the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in their wake. By the time they’re tumbling onto the bed, still kissing, Jihoon is completely naked and Mingyu is fumbling to get his jeans down past his thighs.

“You’re eager today,” Mingyu says, gasping when Jihoon reaches down to grip Mingyu’s thick cock and start pumping at a steady pace, no lube, no leadup, nothing. “Christ, _hyung,_ I haven’t even gotten my pants down yet.”

“You’re taking too long,” Jihoon snaps, training his eyes solely on Mingyu’s face, intensely watching the minute shifts in his expression as he starts to bend into the bliss of the touch. He can’t believe he was almost dumb enough to give up on this.

Mingyu finally manages to kick his jeans to the floor and crawls up on top of Jihoon properly, but Jihoon twists his wrist and Mingyu suddenly can’t do much else but groan, burrowing his head into the juncture between Jihoon’s neck and shoulder. “God, Jihoonie-hyung, you’re s-so bossy. I’m kinda into it.”

“Good,” Jihoon whispers, and then—just to try it out—he leans in close to Mingyu’s ear and croons out, “good boy.”

Mingyu’s dick twitches in his hand. Mingyu himself lets out a shaky, pleased sigh.

“Is that—is that okay?” They’re going into new territory, they both know that, they’re trying something they’ve never really done before. Mingyu had alluded to it weeks ago, months ago—what did he say? _Sometimes I like taking it too_ —and tonight, Jihoon’s ready to cash in his chips.

“More than okay, hyung. Shit. Fuck.” Mingyu’s arms are starting to wobble from holding himself up. “Can we—?”

They scramble to switch positions, Mingyu lying flat on the bed, dark skin a beautiful contrast to Jihoon’s burgundy red sheets, and Jihoon drags out the pink box of wonders from his closet (with all the use it’s been getting, he’s kept it on the floor rather than the top shelf). He throws the fuzzy pink handcuffs onto the bed, which makes Mingyu raise an eyebrow.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops, hyung,” he says, voice thick with both lust and amusement. “I mean, Jesus, have you been planning this or something?”

“Shut up,” Jihoon stammers out, grabbing as many bottles of lube as his hands can hold and throwing them onto the bed as well, before climbing back on himself. “I just—I wanna do this right. If you’ve got your hands everywhere you’re gonna distract me, so—so—”

“Alright, hyung, I hear you.” Mingyu grins at him, and so smoothly and easily it’s like _he_ was the one planning it all along, he raises his arms up so they can be cuffed to the headboard. Jihoon gapes at him for a moment, totally flabbergasted at the idea that Mingyu’s really about to let him do this, before forcing his body into action in case one of them changes their mind. He leans back to admire his work, admire Kim fucking Mingyu lying in his bed with his muscled, melanin-blessed arms just casually cuffed above his head, _vulnerable,_ right there for Jihoon to do whatever he wants, and he freezes up as all the delicious, terrifying possibilities come spiralling down on him.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes out, and while his dick is hard to the point of aching he still can’t move a muscle. “So this is what it feels like when you got me down there, huh?”

“Great, isn’t it?” Mingyu says with a bright-toothed smile, looking excited and wholly unconcerned. “That feeling of someone just _lying_ there, can’t touch you, can’t move out of the way, someone you can do anything you want to … what do you wanna do, Jihoon-hyung? What will you do to make me your good boy?”

“Oh my god, shut up, I’m going crazy.” Jihoon struggles to control his hitched breathing as he runs shaking hands down Mingyu’s chest and abdomen, scratching along the tight ridges of muscle, trailing butterfly-light fingertips along his inner thighs and the shaft of his cock. Mingyu does a sexy, full-body shiver and hums low in his throat. “Your—um—your safewords—”

Mingyu laughs like the prospect of him using a safeword is absurd. “Red and yellow, hyung. Same as yours.”

“Right. Right. Okay.” Jihoon isn’t sure what he even _wants_ to do, being the dominant one in their sex life has never really happened before, but he knows for sure that he wants to start by kissing the life out of him.

He does exactly that, pressing their lips together and deepening it immediately, sucking at Mingyu’s bottom lip. Mingyu groans and tries to take the lead at several moments, but Jihoon only backs away every time he tries until they’ve established themselves once more. They only pull off of each other completely when Jihoon gets startled by a harsh clanging noise, and looks up to see Mingyu had tried to yank his arms down to grab him, seemingly forgetting about the cuffs.

“Shit,” Mingyu huffs, chest heaving and eyes shining brilliantly in the rays of the golden setting sun. “Didn’t expect it to be this hard, lying here without being able to touch you. _Fuck.”_

“I was just getting to that,” Jihoon snarks, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He lets his lips skim the length of Mingyu’s body, brushing coquettishly past a brown nipple and along the planes of his stomach, sucking a hickey briefly into his hip bones, before making their way to the insides of his thighs. Here, Mingyu’s skin is soft, even as the strong muscles beneath pull taut and flex in response. Jihoon opens his mouth wider and lets his fangs drag against this vulnerable, fragile area, and Mingyu gasps and twitches in response, hips shifting restlessly. The smell of his blood, the sound of it surging through his veins, makes Jihoon’s own heart stutter in response.

“Stay still,” he orders, and is immensely pleased when Mingyu complies without a second thought. “Mmm … _good boy.”_

And then he bites down.

Mingyu moans, loud and throaty, as Jihoon begins to feed. He’s trying his very best to stay still, to be a good boy, but the feeling of vampiric-borne pleasure so close to his crotch seems to be too much for him to handle. Jihoon has to struggle to hold him down, mouth latched firmly to his inner thigh, hands playing gently with his balls and the base of his dick at the same time, but the sound of Mingyu’s high-pitched cries and groans is like music to his ears and so, so fucking worth it.

“H-hyung,” he whines out, “fuck, hyung, _fuck,_ it’s s-so—”

He tenses up and groans as Jihoon takes one last greedy gulp and closes the wound, and when Jihoon looks up and brushes sweat-soaked strands of hair out of his eyes, he sees a ridiculous amount of pre-cum leaking from the tip of Mingyu’s dick, his entire body twitching.

“I wonder how close I can get,” Jihoon muses in a half-whisper, fingers ghosting over the spot he had just bitten into. Mingyu’s legs jump. “I wonder how much closer I can bite, I can feed … how close to your cock my fangs can go … maybe I should train you now, work you up into an orgasm every time I bite into you, condition you Pavlov-style to come the minute you feel my fangs, even after you become a vamp yourself.”

“I’m down for it,” Mingyu huffs out with a breathy laugh. “ _Shit,_ hyung, use me, I _want_ you to.”

Jihoon’s hardly aware that a pleased hum is building in his throat, the entire ocean roaring in the curves of his ears. There’s no more fear, not anymore—this is Mingyu, it’s always been Mingyu, and Jihoon can never feel scared or unsure or nervous around Mingyu—and he reaches out for the closest bottle of lube with steadier hands than he had been expecting.

Mingyu lets out a quiet hiss when Jihoon slides the first slick finger in, but he doesn’t look necessarily in pain—guess he really _has_ had practice taking it. Jihoon’s brain briefly wonders if Mingyu’s ever been like this, stretched himself out open and easy like this, for anything or any _one_ else other than a sex toy, and the sudden fury that follows that thought makes him shove a second finger in far earlier than he should, and with far more vigour. Mingyu is strong enough to take it, but his hips twist and a beautiful, slightly pained groan escapes his lips.

“Sorry,” Jihoon mutters, slowing down his movements and forcing himself to be gentler. _This is Mingyu. Don’t hurt Mingyu._

“You’re glowering at my dick, Hoonie-hyung,” Mingyu huffs out with a weak laugh. “What’s got you in a mood?”

“Just thinking.”

“Of what?”

“Of other people fucking you. Before me. And getting mad about it.”

Mingyu snickers, even as Jihoon’s fingers manage to brush against his prostate and he rolls his hips with a drawn-out moan. “Hyung, seeing you— _ahh, fuck, that’s so good_ —seeing you jealous is weirdly hot. Should I tell you about some of the puh-people I slept with?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Of course, he goes gleefully ignored. “There was this one guy in my Philosophy class two years ag-g-go—Seungcheol, I think his name was—god, he was fucking hot, worked out a lot so he was built like a brick shithouse, _big_ hands, knew what to do with them. One night after studying for finals, he had me on my hands and knees and got his whole fist—”

Jihoon snarls and twists his fingers extra hard, making Mingyu stutter and break off into a whine of protest, and then he’s leaning over him and biting down on whatever part of Mingyu he can reach.

He’s not even trying to take any blood; he just wants his fangs breaking the skin, wants Mingyu to feel that sudden surge of lust everywhere and all at once. Mingyu’s entire body jerks like he’s just been electrocuted, cuffs rattling against the headboard until the entire bed creaks, back arching hard enough for Jihoon to almost get flung off of him, and he tosses his head back and lets out a moan so loud Jihoon half-swears it rattles the windows. Jihoon still doesn’t stop, just keeps getting a mouthful of Mingyu’s flesh and biting, licking the wound briefly so it’ll start closing up on its own, and moves on to another patch of skin. He keeps doing this until Mingyu’s ass clenches hard around his fingers and he’s coming completely untouched, feet dragging against the blankets as he searches for some sort of purchase.

Jihoon leans back again to survey the damage with savage triumph—Mingyu’s torso is littered with Jihoon-sized bite marks, blossoming red and purple like tiny flowering bruises and splattered white with cum. Mingyu himself is shaking like a leaf, overstimulated beyond belief and in near-tears.

“Fuck,” he’s crying out, each high, wavering plea going straight to Jihoon’s dick, “fuck, _fuck,_ oh god, hyung, Jihoon- _hyung_ —”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve talking about your past fucks in bed with me,” Jihoon hisses, and the sudden orgasm has made Mingyu loose, makes it easier for him to slide in a third and fourth finger, tease that bundle of nerves inside of him to keep the edge humming longer. “You try pulling that shit again and I’ll—I’ll—”

“Yo-you’ll what, hyung?” Mingyu wheezes out, and even in his hypersensitive, euphoric state, cheeks streaked with escaped tears, he’s enough of himself to shoot Jihoon a wickedly teasing grin, sweat trickling down his forehead. “You’ll fuck me until I pass out? Choke me with your cock? Keep me pinned here and tease me for hours until I’m screaming for you to let me come? God, please, _please_ tell me what you’ll do, I’m _begging_ you.”

“You’re such a kinky fucker,” Jihoon gasps out, and suddenly every second he wastes on foreplay when he could instead be fucking this kid to within an inch of his life is a second wasted. He removes his fingers to hastily lube up his dick, shifts around so he can line himself up. The heat of Mingyu’s entrance is tantalizing, god, this is gonna feel so fucking good. “You’re a little pervert. What can I do to you that you aren’t already desperate for anyway.”

“I guess you could always—” Mingyu stops himself mid-conversation to sigh contentedly as Jihoon begins inching himself slowly into that rapturous tight heat, grinding in slow circles to get used to the intrusion, “—always refuse to have sex. That sounds like the only thing I wouldn’t enjoy, to be hon-honest.”

Jihoon groans, low and filthy, as he bottoms out inside of Mingyu. Sparks are dancing behind his eyes, heat already pooling low in his gut. This is his first time ever _inside_ of anyone, any living thing beyond a fleshlight or Mingyu’s hot, eager mouth, and it’s so fucking amazing and even more amazing because it’s _Mingyu_ and holy shit, he’s not going to last long. “I want to punish you, not punish myself.”

Mingyu tosses his head back and shifts restlessly, trying to fuck himself down onto Jihoon’s dick. “You’re punishing me right now if you don’t fucking move, come on, Jihoon-hyung, _fuck_ me.”

That’s incentive enough for him. Jihoon pulls away and snaps his hips forward again, all semblance of self-control gone. His hands are like claws, digging hard enough into Mingyu’s waist that Jihoon thinks there might be finger-shaped indentations permanently etched into the flesh when he’s done. Even with his arms pinned above his head, Mingyu takes it all like a fucking champ, swinging one supremely toned leg up over Jihoon’s shoulder so the angle goes even better, even deeper. He’s as vocal as ever, sobs and cries and pleas echoing in Jihoon’s ears, intermingling with Jihoon’s own breathless moans and whines. They’re both so loud it’s almost _embarrassing._

“I’m gonna miss this— _aaah—_ aren’t I?” Mingyu chokes out in-between a filthy, almost pornographic moan. “Feeling so good when you bi-bite me.”

“Nuh-not true, actually,” Jihoon grunts when Mingyu’s ass clenches and he nearly loses it entirely. “Vamp fangs still do the same thing, whether to a­— _hnngh, Gyu, feels so good_ —human or to another v-vampire. You can e-even feed off of other vamps, it’s all blood either way. That’s why so many vamps get toge-th-ther to— _fuck._ ”

“Y-you mean—” Mingyu’s eyes are so bright Jihoon thinks he might go blind, dark eyes blown with lust and brilliant and beautiful. “You mean I’ll get to do this to you? I’ll g-get to bite you, feed off of you, make you feel this good?”

“I t-think so.” At this point, Jihoon’s not entirely sure he’s correct with that piece of information. His entire life story could be fabricated right now. Nothing in this world is real except for the unbearably tight heat of Mingyu’s ass, the rhythmic thrust and grind and clenching that is wringing him closer and closer to being undone.

“Holy shit,” Mingyu’s voice is awestruck. “Holy shit, bite me now, give me the Bite. Let’s do this.”

Jihoon has enough in him to let out a shaky, weak laugh. “Not _now,_ idiot.”

“Why n-not? I’m ready, I want it. I wanna bite you, taste you, wanna make you lose it like I did, wanna make you _come_ like I did.” Jihoon readjusts his position so his legs aren’t falling asleep, and it must have done something great because Mingyu lets out a whine so sweet Jihoon almost comes on the spot. “Oh, _please, hyung, I want you—bite me bite me bite me—p-_ please _—”_

Alright, he wants a bite? He’s gonna fucking get one. Jihoon leans as far up as he can, shoving himself deeper inside of Mingyu, so he can sink his teeth into his sweat-shining throat just above his collarbone. He receives a soul-shattering cry of pleasure in response from the beautiful man beneath him, and like it’s a built-in reflex his hand instantly goes down to Mingyu’s dick. He’s barely started pumping before he feels it shudder in his hand, cum staining his fingers and merging with the drying mess already all over Mingyu’s abdomen.

Jihoon doesn’t last long after that, not with Mingyu’s sobs of pure joy and overwhelming sensitivity singing in his ears, and with about half a dozen more awkward, jerky thrusts, he spills inside of Mingyu with a hoarse moan.

He can’t move—it all feels too good, too much. Every shift of his hips sends them both hissing with overstimulation. Jihoon feels gross and sweaty and sticky and his brain has melted into a bloody, pulpy mush in his skull. All he wants to do is maybe lick Mingyu clean and then collapse and sleep for days.

“Hyung, I gotta clean myself,” Mingyu mumbles, voice scratchy. Jihoon feels lips descend onto his forehead, plant a wet, smacking kiss there. “You did really good, hyung, holy shit. That was amazing.”

“Was it?” he asks, already feeling self-conscious. “I—it wasn’t—you liked it?”

“ _Liked_ it?” Mingyu snickers at him. “Hyung, you bit me, like, twenty times, I thought my entire brain might short-circuit. If you didn’t just put me through two of the best orgasms of my life, I’d be fucking you into the mattress right now as a thank-you gift.”

Jihoon laughs, breathless and exhausted, wondering if this is how Mingyu must feel after their sex. How does he manage to clean them both up in this state? Jihoon didn’t get anything shoved up _his_ ass, and he still feels like he’s aching everywhere.

As tired as he may be, he’s not just going to let Mingyu clean himself off and fall asleep on his own like an asshole, so he struggles to his feet and the two of them, with wobbly legs and plenty of amused laughter, stumble into the shower. Jihoon can’t exactly help hold Mingyu up the same way Mingyu so easily does for him, but he forces his legs to not buckle and sticks as close to the giant human as he can, arms wrapped around his middle, gently urging Mingyu to lean on him for support.

“Hyung,” Mingyu mumbles when they’re both cleaned off and snuggling in bed. Mingyu enjoys spooning him, but Jihoon likes being able to face him when they’re together, likes knowing that Mingyu’s gorgeous, sleepy face will be the last thing he sees before his eyes close. “Hyung, I want to tell you something.”

“Make it quick,” Jihoon mumbles, trying to wriggle closer into his warm embrace. He’s about to nod off any minute now.

“I’m super in love with you.”

Jihoon freezes up, his breath hitching in his throat.

Mingyu keeps on talking, voice low and soothing, hands idly running along Jihoon’s bare arms and waist. “I know you’re probably thinking it’s just the post-sex afterglow talking, but I’m serious. I haven’t ever said it before, but I do. I love you. I’ve loved you the moment you told me you were a vampire and apologized for almost killing me. I knew there was nobody else I wanted to be with.” He yawns, jaw creaking in complaint as his mouth stretches impossibly wide. “Sorry for making things awkward, I guess. But I wanted you to know.”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, and he can’t tell whether Mingyu is upset about it or not, because the big oaf starts softly snoring a minute later. Jihoon’s left to wipe his spilling tears on a corner of the blanket, try his very hardest not to sniffle and wake him up, and he falls asleep to a pounding heartbeat and Mingyu’s hands leaving searing points of heat on his body and the wild, disbelieving thought of: _he loves me, he loves me, he loves me …_

Despite what Mingyu had insisted upon, Jihoon very nearly refused to give him the Bite next spring. It’s too early, he claimed, it’s moving too fast, it’s not enough time for you to get your affairs in order.

“I’ve already graduated from college,” Mingyu had protested. “I can apply for grad school anytime I want.”

Jihoon, panicking a little bit, insisted that he won’t give Mingyu the Bite until he lets his family know their son might be living an extra few hundred years. Mingyu shut his empty words up by promptly calling his mother right then and there.

Actually trying to explain it to his parents—that vampires exist, that Mingyu’s dating a vampire, that Mingyu’s about to willingly become a vampire—was an uphill battle in itself, one that they spent a few months trying to settle. No matter what, Jihoon didn’t want Mingyu to Turn with the knowledge that his parents had disowned him, so he took it upon himself to visit them almost every day for weeks straight, doing his best to explain the hidden vampiric world that coincides with the human one, convince Mingyu’s soft-spoken and suburban parents that despite everything, Mingyu’s life won’t change too much, Jihoon will make sure of that. Mingyu can still get his Master’s degree, can still focus on his dream job of writing novels, can still do anything he wants with his life, he’ll just have plenty of extra years to get them done.

He’s still not sure if he actually convinced them, but maybe Mingyu’s family had detected the earnestness in Jihoon’s voice, had been impressed by his determination with the daily visits. As long as they still get to see their son for however long they have left to live, they said, they will give him their blessings.

Mingyu had been so happy after that announcement, he spent the rest of the night worshipping Jihoon’s body with nothing but his lips and tongue, whispering reverent words and praises until Jihoon was shaking from head to toe and begging to come.

There were preparations, of course, once the date had been decided. Jihoon got Jeonghan to go through his vampiric connections and find people who have had experience Turning humans before, got advice on how best to do it to make the Turning as safe and painless as possible. Mingyu sold his apartment and officially moved into Jihoon’s, and when they weren’t spending time enthusiastically fucking each other’s brains out, together the two of them went over printed pdf files of the Turning process, the best way for the Turning human in question to spend the next few days dealing with their metamorphosis, what to do in the fragile few months afterwards where the fledgling vampire is at their weakest and least in-control.

And then suddenly, it was time, and before he knows it Jihoon finds himself sitting on the floor of the bedroom across from Mingyu, who’s got himself tucked into a ridiculous birds-nest pile of blankets and pillows. Some of them aren’t even his, Jihoon is sure of it, but there’s no point asking where Mingyu got them now.

“Are you ready?” Jihoon asks, voice trembling even as he tries to sound strong. So many things could go wrong. He’s so scared. He’s scared he might lose him forever, that Mingyu might not be strong enough to handle the Bite, or worse, might wake up from this and wish it never happened and walk away forever.

“Hyung,” Mingyu says, looking nervous but determined, “I’m ready. You can do this.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Jihoon warns for the millionth time as he leans in, braces himself for what he’s about to do. The setting sun burns the room red and orange, lights a halo in Mingyu’s brown hair like a late afternoon angel. “It’s like fire, it burns you inside-out and feels like your throat will rip apart. Your eyes will be creepy and super red for the first few days, then fade back into something less weird. You’ll feel weak and gross but you’ll also wanna feed off of every living thing you see, and it’s really freaky, and it doesn’t stop being freaky until you figure out how to control it. This is your last chance to back out, nothing has to change between us, it’s okay if you—”

Mingyu swoops in to kiss him, thoroughly distracting Jihoon from his anxious rant. “I’m ready, hyung,” he repeats, and then he tilts his head back.

Jihoon pauses to gather his nerves and inhale Mingyu’s scent as he closes the distance. He wonders if it’ll still be the same—if Mingyu will still smell the same after he Turns, if his blood will still have the same sound. There’s an overpowering urge inside of him to just give up, to forget about the Bite, to just feed off of him and get Mingyu to fuck him and pretend this whole thing never happened. Despite all that they’ve done to ensure that this was the right decision, Jihoon can still feel that insecurity simmering below the surface.

_I’m super in love with you._

“I love you, too,” Jihoon mutters into the smooth skin of Mingyu’s neck, before he angles himself just so and bites down.

 

Trying to go about his daily life while Mingyu is huddled underneath that stupid pile of blankets, occasionally letting out pained whimpers that Jihoon knows he can’t do anything about, is absolutely torturous.

Jihoon doesn’t want to answer emails or plan out consultations or talk to Minghao on the fucking phone. He wants to plop himself down right next to the bundled mass that is his boyfriend—future vampire lover—holy shit, that’s so weird to think about—and hold him until the pain stops.

But he can’t, and he knows that. He can’t do anything but let Mingyu undergo the change himself, in the soft, dry, coolness of a dozen quilts. It lasts for days, and despite the fact that Jihoon knows Mingyu won’t be eating or drinking at all during this process, it doesn’t stop him from trying to leave fruits or chocolate by the pile, only to begrudgingly eat them himself when they go untouched for hours.

“Is it supposed to take this long?” he asks frantically on the third day, phone glued to his ear.

Jeonghan is unamused on the other line. Jihoon’s probably interrupting Jeonghan and Minghao’s sexy times. _“You went through the same thing, Jihoonie, you tell me.”_

“I can’t remember! I think mine lasted four days, maybe? Three and a half? Mingyu should be done soon, he should be okay—what if he isn’t? What if he can’t take it anymore, what if his heart stops or something and he’s fucking dead?”

 _“Jesus Christ, Jihoon, you’re freaking out. Take a deep breath.”_ Jeonghan leans away from the receiver to mumble something inaudible that must be directed towards Minghao. _“Okay, look. It should be done soon. You two were careful, it went off without a hitch. You know what to do, you know what to teach him. He might even deal with it better than you did—you can always let him feed off of you, after all.”_

“Well, of course,” Jihoon blusters. At the very least, he doesn’t have to teach Mingyu about hunting. That’s something the two of them can happily ignore. “But I just, it’s been so long and I don’t know what to—”

A sound like someone accidentally bashing their head into a wall emerges from somewhere in the vicinity of Jihoon’s bedroom. His heart stops.

“I gotta go.”

He hangs up before Jeonghan can say anything more and throws his cell phone aside, running back to his room as fast as he can. For the first time in days, Mingyu is sitting up and clearly awake—he’s still covered by blankets, making him look like some sort of shitty, down-feather ghost collapsed in the corner of the dark bedroom, but he’s definitely in an upright position and he’s mumbling something in a raspy, weak voice that Jihoon can’t make out.

“Mingyu?” Jihoon whispers. The blanketed figure stirs, and eventually a feeble groan that sort of sounds like Jihoon’s name emerges from beneath.

“Mingyu!” Jihoon scrambles over and practically dives down in front of Mingyu on his knees, hands hovering, unsure whether or not to touch him just yet. He remembers how sensitive he was when he first Turned, remembers how much his Bite hurt, how dry his throat and mouth was, the panic and fear of realizing he had woken up and become something completely different, and was no longer the same person he once was. No matter what, he wants to make sure Mingyu’s first experiences as a vampire aren’t as terrible as his was. “Mingyu, how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

The bundled figure whispers something that Jihoon can’t make out. Making up his mind, Jihoon reaches out to what he’s pretty sure is Mingyu’s head beneath the blankets, pressing his hands gently to either side of his face, hoping that it’ll be some comfort.

“It’s hard, I know,” he says, doing his best to sound reassuring. “It sucks at first, and it might suck for a while, but I’m right here, okay? I love you, I love you so much, and I’ll be with you every step of the way, teaching you everything I know, helping you as best as I can. I’m right here.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Mingyu gives a sharp tug on the blankets and they fall away. The fabric slips through Jihoon’s fingers, and then without another moment to even realize what’s happening he’s face-to-face with Kim Mingyu again.

His hair is messy from the blankets, wild with static shock. He’s a little gaunt, tanned skin stretched tight over his cheekbones, heavy shadows under his eyes from the several days of agony going through the Turning, leaving him skinnier and weaker than Jihoon’s ever seen him. For a moment, Jihoon’s heart sinks seeing Mingyu reduced to this state—because of _him_ —and he almost regrets doing this at all.

But then he sees the look in Mingyu’s eyes—and it’s alive, it’s burning and glorious, it’s the fresh, vibrant, bloody red of a freshly-Turned vampire.

Mingyu’s eyes roam along Jihoon’s features almost hungrily, like he’s seeing him in an entirely new sense of clarity; which he is as his senses start attuning themselves to their new heightened vampiric state. And despite the fact that Jihoon _knows_ he must be in extreme discomfort at best—genuine pain at worst—a brilliant smile slowly spreads along Mingyu’s face, revealing sharpened, elongated canine teeth that must be aching in his raw gums.

“Hey, hyung,” he says softly, voice croaky and hoarse from disuse, but tender and heartrending and silky enough to make Jihoon melt on the spot. “Sorry for making you worry for so long.”

“Idiot,” Jihoon mumbles, no heat in his words—nothing but relief, and love, and the realization that he now has hundreds of years to spend with this man, hundreds of blissful and unending years.

But this isn’t just any ordinary couple. This is Jihoon and Mingyu, and as usual, things don’t stay soft and gentle between them for very long.

“I’m real tired right now, but, y’know,” Mingyu pauses and his eyes slowly move down, fixing at the skin of Jihoon’s neck where his pulse point is starting to pick up. His hands shift, curling around Jihoon’s waist in a grip that shouldn’t be as strong as it is, and his expression morphs into one of pure, unadulterated hunger. His words come out in a breathy moan. “ _Christ,_ Jihoonie-hyung, I’m feeling so fucking _thirsty.”_


End file.
